More Than Meets the Eye
by Aecoris
Summary: Sequel to 'Road to Confidence'. Dean, Sam and John are shocked when a hunt sends them back to the one place they never thought they'd have to visit again. They'll meet old friends and foes and tensions will rise when the hunt gets out of hand.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone! I'm back with the new story in the 'Missing Piece' series! I want to thank my beta Gabi for not only looking over my work but also writing a great intro to this chapter and thinking of awesome plots! For those of you that are new to this series you'll probably want to read 'The Road to Confidence' first or it won't make much sense at all. That is the second story. The first is called 'The Missing Piece' and you don't really need to read that one but I would recommend it. Any questions you have though, feel free to ask me and I'll answer any of them. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me in this series and the new readers that have discovered it. Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you'll enjoy this one as well!_

* * *

Dean was pacing the room, his hands clenched to fists and his eyes wandering to the clock at the wall every few seconds. "What's taking them so long? It's been almost an hour." With a hateful look he stared at the door where Sam had been wheeled through before.

"Sit down, Dean, before the hospital sues us for the holes in the floor." John's voice sounded both annoyed and amused.

Dean stopped his pacing and looked at the door as like he was about to burst in and free his brother from the doctor's clutches.

"I said, sit down, Dean. It's not like they're doing a brain surgery on him."

Dean shot his father a glance that clearly said that he wasn't so sure about that. He was about to jump and pace again when John's cell phone rang.

"It's Bobby," John said after a short look at the display. He greeted their friend in a low voice. "We're in a hospital in St. Louis," he told him. "No," he said after a few seconds. "Nothing has happened. Sam is just getting his cast removed, that's all. Although you couldn't tell if you watch Dean." John laughed. "Overprotective? Dean? That's an understatement. If there was a surgery that existed to join them at the hip I guess Dean would do it." John got serious when he listened to Bobby. "Yeah," he agreed. "We can do that. No problem. Thanks Bobby. Bye."

Dean looked at his father, expectantly. "Another hunt?"

"Yes, there are some mysterious deaths in Holton, Kansas."

Dean frowned. "Sounds familiar."

John nodded. "Have we been there before?"

"Not during the last few years. Maybe Sam will know."

As on clue the door to the examination room opened and a nurse was pushing the wheelchair with Sam in it out of the room. John had to suppress a laugh when he saw Sam's face. The kid hated to be pushed.

Dean jumped up, flashed a bright smile at the nurse and practically shoved her away. "I'll take over," he announced and patted Sam's shoulder. "Everything okay?"

Before Sam had a chance to answer, a middle aged doctor butted in. "His hand looks fine. We took an x-ray that showed the wrist has perfectly healed. But Sam should go easy on his hand during the next few days."

"We got that covered," Dean assured him, already wheeling Sam along the floor, leaving their father behind to talk to the doctor.

"Bobby called," he told Sam. "We've got a new hunt."

"Great," Sam muttered and grabbed the hand-rims to bring the wheelchair to a halt. "Stop it, Dean. I can do it myself."

Dean let go of the handles and got around the chair to face his brother. "You heard the doctor. You have to take it easy."

Sam sighed. Dean had been a downright mother-hen during the last weeks. But he knew it was useless to start an argument. Instead he focused on the information Dean had just given him. "A new hunt?"

"Yeah. A few mysterious murders in Holton, Kansas."

John caught up to them just in time to see Sam's face fall in shock. "So we were right. We've been there before. You know the place, Sam?"

Sam looked up at his father and brother, his face betraying the incredulity how they could not remember the town's name.

When he saw his brother's face, something clicked in Dean's mind and everything fell in place within an instant. "Oh shit," he exclaimed. "How could we have forgotten about it, Dad? Holton, that's where we found Sam."

John's jaw dropped and Dean watched as his father's expression filled with emotion, obviously remembering the day they had found out Sam was a part of their family. But for Sam, while the city held the memories of finding his family it also held years and years of painful, terrible memories of being bullied and uncared for. John exchanged a quick look with Dean at which the older brother glanced nervously at his sibling. Then John Winchester did something Dean neither boy had ever seen him do before.

"We can skip this one if you boys want." John never gave up on a job once he had accepted it. Sure, there were ones he turned down if they needed a break or if it was nearly impossible to complete because it would be too hard on Sam. But once he accepted a job, especially one that they would most likely be able to complete easily, John wouldn't even suggest abandoning it.

The far-away look in Sam's eyes vanished once his father spoke. "No, there are people dying because of some evil thing. I'm not afraid to go back to some place that has nothing to do with me anymore." _I'm not afraid because I have my family with me this time. _Sam added silently.

"You sure Sammy?" Dean asked and bit his bottom lip.

Sam groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, clearly aggravated at his brother. "Yes! Why the hell not Dean? That part of my life has been over for eight years now and just because we're going back to that town doesn't mean anything. I don't live that life anymore."

"Sam..." John tried his approach to his son but Sam just grunted and used his healed wrist to quickly escape toward the exit.

Sam might have acted like he was okay, but Dean knew him better than anyone else. When Sam acted edgy and snappy, he was trying to hide what he was really feeling. Guess he learned that trait from his big brother.

* * *

They decided to go back to the motel they were staying at for the night and then pack up and start driving tomorrow morning. Honestly, Dean just wanted to relax tonight before going on what he was sure would be a stressful and tense hunt for all three of them. But he couldn't be relaxed if Sam wasn't. As soon as they entered the motel Sam had gone straight onto his laptop, clicking away with short, quick bursts. Sure, Sam was the main researcher in the family but even this was a bit ridiculous.

Dean walked behind his brother from where he was sitting at a table and leaned his head over to see what he was up to. Sam was quickly searching through the websites about the town, going through them so fast that there was no way he was taking any of the information in.

"What'cha doin'?" Dean asked playfully, causing his brother to startle and gasp before spinning his wheelchair around to glare at him.

"What does it look like I'm doing Dean? I'm trying to find information on the deaths for our next hunt. You know, it's called _research..."_

Dean backed up and put his hands up in defense, clearly taken aback by Sam's bitchy attitude. "Hey, chill the hell out man. I'm just trying to talk to you. You know...like _brothers_ do?"

"Yeah, freakishly _annoying_ brothers." Sam grunted and turned away, causing Dean to sigh.

"Fine, I'll get out of your hair then. Sorry for bugging you, oh great one. Maybe you'd be happier with a brother who beats you and could care less?" Dean knew he was pushing it right here but he had to get Sam to calm the hell down. Making him feel bad would get the job done, even if it was reminding him of his past. But he had to get his little brother to remember that the past was the past and he had something so much better now.

Dean watched as Sam's whole body went rigid and then he shivered. Dean almost regretted what he had said by the hurt look on his brother's face...almost.

"You're right." Sam said quietly. "I'm sorry Dean. I was just being..."

"A bitchy gimp?" Dean suggested with a small smile.

"Yeah." Sam agreed seriously. "A really bitchy gimp. I guess the whole thing about going back brought back memories that I thought I'd forgotten. And then...going back there would just bring back more. Sorry." Sam hung his head, obviously ashamed at his behavior and Dean couldn't help it any longer as he felt a huge wave of sympathy for his younger brother.

"Hey, it's alright. I forgive you...this time." He grinned as he sat down at the table next to Sam. "You know, it'll be fine. Me and Dad are gonna be there with you and if you ever need us we're here for you."

Sam managed to smile back. "I know....I know there's nothing to worry about. But I was nervous anyway...guess that's why I was getting so mad."

"It's alright." Dean patted Sam on the shoulder and turned the laptop to face him. "So, what did you find out?"

* * *

John came back from getting pizza five minutes later and Sam reluctantly left the research to sit at the table with his father and brother. He actually managed to relax a little before he went back to his laptop. Watching his youngest son, John's smile turned into a frown after a while. Sam's wrist seemed to be very stiff. Almost as though he was trying not to move it too much so he didn't irritate it.

"You alright there Sammy?" John asked and almost wished he hadn't. Dean swirled his head over to his younger brother, already on protect-Sam mode. He put down his what had to be slice of pizza and walked over to Sam with a worried look on his face.

Sam sighed when he saw Dean come towards him. "Yeah Dad, I'm fine. Why?" Sam asked, trying to keep this between him and his father. There was no need for Dean to get involved in everything.

"Just looks like your wrist might be bothering you a little bit. You just got that cast off, why don't you go relax and get some sleep? It will be easier to research when we get there."

Sam had to admit his father was right. Plus he really didn't feel like researching at the moment and going to sleep would get his brother off his back.

"Yeah, alright." He agreed and wheeled over to the bed. Sighing, he wished he wouldn't have to change for bed, because although he would never admit it his wrist had begun to throb and sting a while ago. Closing his eyes for a moment, he briefly thought of just lying down in his jeans. He couldn't feel the material on his legs, no matter what it was, so why even bother to change? But of course he knew that although he couldn't move his legs the rough material would still rub against the skin and aggravate it during his sleep. He had tried it once a few years ago but Dean had nearly gone postal when he had noticed it.

It was things like that in which Sam just learned to deal with when it comes to Dean. Sam knew that his older brother felt responsible for him but he shouldn't have to feel the need to worry about every little thing that may happen to him. It was annoying.

Sam went to lift himself onto the bed without a second thought but as soon as he lifted his body his wrist shook with the sudden pressure and gave out on him. He slipped and nearly fell to the side but for once Sam was grateful that Dean's over-protectiveness had driven him to hover over his younger brother during such a simple task. Dean caught him easily, almost as if he had been expecting the mishap and with practiced ease helped transfer Sam onto the bed without blinking an eye. In a smooth motion Dean pulled the jeans from Sam's legs and covered his brother with the blanket.

Tiredly, Sam closed his eyes. Although his wrist still was throbbing like mad, he was glad that the cast finally had been removed. After six weeks of relying on his family's help, he was exhausted. Although he was grateful that Dean and his father always helped him without making a fuss it was getting on his nerves how drastically his independence had been limited during the time he had to wear the cast. The constant feeling of helplessness had just drained him emotionally. Guiltily, Sam thought of all the people that were worse off than him in so many ways. People that needed assistance for everything they did. People that couldn't eat on their own or even couldn't breathe on their own. The thought sent chills down the young hunter's spine. If his injury had been further up….

Sam felt deep gratitude wash over him when he realized that he still had been able to do a lot of things on his own. He was also thankful that Dean had been around all the time so John didn't have to help him with the big things. Sam felt his face redden on the mere thought of his father helping him in the shower. He loved his father and he knew that John would have helped him without a second thought but there were just certain things that a father shouldn't have to help his adult children with and again Sam was grateful for his awesome big brother.

Yawning, Sam watched Dean who was rummaging through the refrigerator as if he never had one and a half pizzas just an hour before. Speaking of awesome… Sam snorted. Since he had quit smoking Dean seemed to be eating all day long. Dean was doing well, still had his moments of course but he was continuing to take the pills and had even gotten off of the patches and gum, therefore removing nicotine completely from his diet. But by removing nicotine Dean had added much more food to his daily meals and snacks. It seemed like Dean didn't know what to do without a cigarette in his hand. He had always been smoking them and lighting them and without that distraction that took up so much of his days, Dean was unsure of how to occupy his hands. They had been constantly been moving beforehand and it didn't take long for Dean to find a substitute. Food, food and more food. Dean was filling the Impala with all sorts of snacks and junk food; it was constantly at his reach when they drove. Sam knew that when people quit their appetites tended to increase but Dean was like a whole new story because he had already loved to eat.

Sam didn't even know if Dean was conscious of what he was doing; it was just a natural thing, a habit to replace the smoking. But it was paying off in a way that Dean was undoubtedly uncomfortable about. He was gaining weight and even though he exercised and trained his body couldn't keep up with the alarming amount of food he was putting into it. His clothes now fit tighter around him and Sam knew that he had gone off to buy new sizes without letting anyone know, He saw Dean picking at the material of his shirts or adjusting his belts with a worried frown on his face but honestly Sam couldn't see why he brother would fret over it. It really wasn't that big of a deal, sure his brother had gained some weight in his face but the rest was just going for his stomach. And so what if his brother had a small gut now? The food kept Dean from smoking, kept him from hacking his lungs out and that's all that Sam cared about and John as well.

As planned both Sam and Dean had refused to tell John that Dean had given up smoking. Both brothers were curious as to how long it would take their father to realize what had taken place while he was gone. They didn't think John thought anything of it at first; he probably thought Dean was smoking when he wasn't around. But as time went by the clothes they owned started to smell less and less of smoke and Sam even caught John digging through Dean's bag and sniffing his clothes one day. His father had a surprised look on his face when all he could smell was the fading scent on a few articles of clothing. But John hadn't said anything, watching Dean chew gum and apply patches, he had only thought Dean was taking steps towards quitting, not actually taken the giant lead and had acted on it.

The day came when they had all taken a drive in the Impala over to a cemetery to complete a salt-and-burn. John must had noticed the empty ashtray and how the car had smelled as fresh as it ever had. With a frown on his face John had stared at the empty ashtray and made a show of sniffing the air. He finally asked to question.

"Dean, did you quit smoking?"

While Sam started to laugh, Dean flashed his father a bright smile. "Took you long enough to realize it, old man."

"I'll show you old man, smoke head. So what is this all about? You really quit?"

"Yeah dad, I did."

"Unbelievable." John congratulated Dean, told him how proud he was and they even went….

Sam hadn't even realized he had drifted off into sleep, so lost in his thoughts that were turning into dreams until his cell buzzed from beside him on the nightstand. He groaned and shifted so he was on his side. Dean was already in the bed next to him and John was on his, they were watching some TV show and simply spared Sam a short glance as he checked his phone. It was Jess.

Smiling, Sam leaned on his elbow for support and answered the phone.

"Hi Sam," he heard Jess's sweet voice. "How did it go in the hospital? Have you gotten rid of the cast?"

"Yeah, finally. The wrist is okay."

"So I guess you feel great now." Sam could literally see Jess's affectionate smile.

"If you don't count that I almost fell out of my wheelchair because the stupid wrist buckled, then yes, I feel great."

Jess giggled. "Give it some time." She laughed out loud when she heard Sam's snort. "I bet I'm not the first one who's telling you this. But it's just the truth. Take it easy. So what now? Where are you heading to? My way?"

Sam had promised Jess that he would try to find a hunt in her surroundings but till now there was just none. Regretfully, he shrugged, but then remembered that she couldn't see it. "No, I'm sorry. We're going to Holton, Kansas tomorrow."

"Kansas? Geez, that's not even remotely in my neighborhood. You have to do better, Sam."

Sam laughed. Her happiness was infecting. He decided to not tell her that Holton was the place he grew up. Not yet. Not before he knew more about the hunt and how the place and the people had changed. They talked about Jess's studies and Stanford for a while and then Sam hung up, after promising Jess to really try to find a way to meet her again soon.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I will have to reply to them after spring break. I'm glad so many people are still interested. Thanks to Gabi as always for helping beta and writing a great conversation between Sam and Dean and John at the end of this chapter! :) This chapter deals with Sam's emotions and feelings about...well you'll see. Not much action here because I'm trying to keep the chapters shorter for quicker updates. Enjoy!_

* * *

Sam woke up to the sound of Dean's music and the rumble of the Impala. He looked around blearily, remembering that they were on their way to Holton. As he checked the clock he realized it had been about an hour and a half since he last saw the time. He glanced down at his lap where his laptop still laid open, long since turned off on its own.

"Dude," Sam turned to his brother who was happily bobbing his head to the music and making his way through a box of Twinkies. "Why didn't you wake me up? I could have gotten so much more done."

Dean gave Sam a weird look. "You were dead tired, falling asleep as you were typing man." He chuckled and Sam rolled his eyes. "Besides, how much more research can you really get done on the laptop? We don't know enough information; we have to wait until we get there."

"Yeah I guess you're right." Sam replied and rubbed his eyes, trying to come out of his sleep induced haze. "Where did you get that?" He yawned, pointing to the box of Twinkies.

"About twenty minutes after you fell asleep, I stopped at a gas station. I got a sudden craving for 'em. Want one?" The older brother asked as he held the squishy cake out to Sam in an offering.

"Ugh, no. It doesn't sound appetizing after we had pancakes for breakfast. Don't you have anything relatively healthy in your stash?"

Dean shrugged and opened the wrapping and popped half of the thing into his mouth. "Ya big girl." He said through chewing. "I don't know, look for yourself. I'm sure you'll find something in there that won't ruin your girlish figure."

Sam sighed, slightly aggravated. Just because he didn't like to pig out on junk food 24/7 didn't make him a girl. He ate his fair share of junk but he liked to balance things out with eating things that wouldn't clog up his arteries. Couldn't a guy like to eat healthy food? Not according to his brother, at least. Plus, Sam had to watch his weight much more carefully than his brother. Every pound he might gain he'd have to carry with his own hands, so yeah he would rather not eat junk.

Rolling his eyes and decided to drop the subject Sam opened the glove box which was now home to Dean's glorious treats instead of his packs of cigarettes. Digging through Sam finally found something decent in a small bag of pretzels.

"I just knew you were going to choose those." Dean grinned. "That's why I bought 'em. Anyway, did you find out anything interesting about what could be killing these people? Any ideas of what it could be?"

"Well," Sam started up. "It seems like all the murders are being committed by the town's own citizens. The murderers that are found alive swear they didn't do it, that they were somewhere else at the time. There are even witnesses that claim the person was with them at the time and not near the scene of the crime."

"So how about the suspected murderers that were found dead? What killed them?" Dean questioned.

"It seems like they committed suicide. It's such a small town. Only around 3,200 people and to have so many murders happen within months is shocking people. The police department is going crazy trying to catch the murderers before they start. It's usually such a peaceful town."

Dean glanced at Sam knowingly. "Yeah, peaceful my ass."

"Dean." Sam sighed, knowing all to well what his brother was referring to and wished he would just stop. He didn't want these events from his past brought up again. "Just because one scumbag family neglected their foster kids doesn't make the whole city a bad place."

Dean shook his head, not looking away from the road this time. "Yeah? Well it does to me." His voice was thick with emotion and it shocked Sam. For the first time he realized that going back to that town wouldn't just be hard on him. Dean had seen kids bully Sam there, had been shot there and probably the worst....had watched Sam almost freeze to death. The whole town was full of memories that haunted the both of them.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear away the negative thoughts. He needed a distraction until they arrived...

"Hey Dean? How about I take over driving now. You can get some sleep."

Dean's mouth twitched, not wanting to give up driving for the same reason. But then he looked over at Sam and smiled.

"Sure thing, I could use some sleep."

* * *

Sam followed John as they entered the city and tried to keep his thoughts at bay and concentrate on the sound of his brother's snoring. As soon as the city came into view it was as if he was flashed back to his childhood, the scared lonely little boy just wanting to have a purpose in the world. The small city hadn't changed a bit from eight years in the past. There were a few new restaurants here and there and some shops had changed but other than that it was like he had been transported back into the past.

_Relax Sam; this is nothing like your childhood. You're with your family to complete a case. Hell, Dean is right next to you in the car. _He repeated that thought until his heartbeat returned to normal, wishing like hell that Dean would wake up already so he could have someone to talk to. He would have woken up his brother a half an hour ago, but his throat had gone dry and he was afraid that if he would have spoken, his voice would have cracked.

Just as Sam was beginning to calm down his heart went into overdrive when John pulled into the Super 8 Holton motel and he followed, the same one that they had stayed in eight years prior. But Sam's heart wasn't beating because of the bad memories but rather the good ones. This was the place where he was saved, where John and Dean took him in. The first place he truly felt at home, where he and Dean would spend the days studying for school and laughing. Where John would get pizza and play cards with him. Sam smiled, allowing the memories to fill his mind.

His dad tapped on the window just then, starling Sam out of his daydreaming and Dean out of his nap.

Sam rolled down the window as John spoke. "Sorry about coming to the same motel kiddo. This was the cheapest one and the two fancy hotels in the city that I would have let us stay in just for the heck of it aren't handicap accessible."

"It's okay Dad, really." Sam smiled and John nodded and went to get a room.

"What...where...are we?" Dean half-mumbled as he cracked his neck and blinked blearily at his surroundings out the window.

"We're in Holton." Sam replied, opening his door and waiting for Dean to wake more so he could get his wheelchair for him. "We're staying at the same motel we did before."

"Really? Hopefully the sheets are cleaner this time around." Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes. "You think they'll serve breakfast here now?"

"I hope not, all the free motel breakfasts taste like crap."

Dean stretched some more, still not getting out of the car. "Hey, they're not that bad. I like 'em."

"You like anything that's remotely edible." Sam shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, so?"

"Just shut up jerk and get my chair already."

"Or I could just leave you sitting out in the car gimp." Dean winked and even as he said so, stepped out of the car.

"You wouldn't want to do that." Sam called to him. "I'd just crawl out and kick your ass."

"Yeah you would." Dean grinned as he pulled Sam's chair out and set it up. "And I know from first-hand experience to stay away from an angry gimp." He paused for a moment as Sam got himself situated. "Although you wouldn't actually be able to _kick_ my ass, now would you?"

"Okay, now you're going to get it..." Sam reached up to punch his brother in the shoulder when their playful banter was interrupted.

"Boys!" John called out, both sons immediately stopping. Their father shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Can you two just get along for more than two minutes without bickering? Give your old man a break here."

"What are you talking about? We get along all of the time...almost anyway." Dean told him, patting Sam's shoulder and both boys offered him a cheesy smile.

John huffed, not wanting to get involved with the bantering as well. "I will never understand the sense of humor you boys have. Now come on, we have room twelve."

"Wasn't room twelve the room we switched to when Sammy started living with us?" Dean asked as John opened the door and they stepped inside.

"It looked like there were only two handicapped rooms, so it's a big possibility." Sam replied, looking around the room. It smelled just like all the other motel rooms they stayed in, musty and old but this one meant so much more. Sam could almost picture the room eight years ago and this one looked nearly identical. There was a newer TV and it looked like newer tables and he could have sworn the bed sheets hadn't been that ugly before....

"Yeah it is." John said suddenly, turning to look at his boys. "It was room twelve, this is the same room."

Dean cocked an eyebrow as he began to unpack some of their stuff. "And how do you remember that?" He threw Sam a bag of salt which the younger brother easily caught; it was his job to salt the windows and doors.

"Of course I remember." John said quickly, turning away. "I'm the one that checked in."

Sam mentally snorted. His father was worse than Dean when it came to revealing his true emotions. John didn't remember because he had to check in...he checked in at every motel they went to. He remembered because of the significance of that day, of this place. Something like that just showed Sam how much that day meant to his father and how happy it made him.

* * *

After Sam was finished John went on to place a mat that they carried with them with a devil's trap on the bottom near the door. Sam in the meantime fished out his laptop and set in on the counter. He looked curiously at a small motel broucher that was sitting atop the table.

"Oh look here Dean, your wish has come true, the motel is now serving free all-you-can-eat breakfasts everyday in the lobby." He said with a sigh.

Dean did a small fist pump as he came over and snatched the paper from Sam's hands. "Hell yes! I'll be making good use out of this."

The rest of the afternoon was just spent getting situated and looking up more information on Holton and its history. John had gone out to pick up a few newspapers in the evening and when he returned he was unusually quiet as he sat on one of the tow beds.

Sam noticed his father's behavior and how he kept looking back and forth between his sons, as if he wanted to tell them something but was almost afraid to. Dean didn't seem to notice at all, lost in his third helping of Chinese food.

Sam waited a few moments more, just to see if his father's strange behavior would change but it didn't and it was starting to creep Sam out. John was always doing something. He was never a man to just sit there and day dream, he was constantly active. Sam could say he was very similar to his father in that way, unlike Dean. The youngest Winchester figured it was better to ask than to spend so much time wondering.

"Dad what's up? You seem tense." Sam asked and spun his wheelchair around in a quick fluid motion to get a better view of his father. John looked taken aback and Dean finally stopped scraping his plate to crumbs and looked his way as well.

"Humph?" He asked, almost choking on his last bite.

"Dad's acting weird and keeps staring at us." Sam filled him in.

Dean smirked at their father. "Pervert." He chuckled and Sam expected some kind of smile or comment in response from John but all he got was silence. Dean now cocked his head in confusion.

"I just keep thinking about the last time we were here." John said suddenly. "While it was a happy time I know there were a lot of bad things as well. I guess I'm just worried about you two. Coming back to such a place is sure to bring back memories that you'd rather forget."

"What are you now, a psychologist?" Dean mumbled and snickered to himself only to receive a glare from his two family members.

"I'm serious Dean and I'm trying to be sincere, not funny." John said sternly and at once Dean's smile faltered and he nodded, understanding. "Sam, I know you lived with a foster family and never exactly told us everything that went on. I know you weren't treated well. I just wonder if all those memories get you down."

Sam suddenly felt all the pressure of the world on his shoulders as both his father and brother were staring at him with looks of worry. He really did not want to talk about these things; speaking about them would just make the memories worse. But at the same time he wanted someone to know, someone to share the burden and know the complete truth. He hadn't bothered telling his family before, just wanting to forget and move on but now the subject was rearing its ugly headlights in Sam's face and he nearly had no choice but to cave.

Deep in thought, Sam failed to notice that Dean had pulled one of the cheap chairs next to him and was sitting with a hand resting on Sam's shoulder. Dean was looking at him intently, like if he wished hard enough all of Sam's troubles would vanish with the wind.

"Sammy," John said quietly, locking eyes with his son when Sam still refused to talk. "Did your parents ever abuse you or beat you in any way?"

Sam shook his head. "No, they never laid a finger on me in a harmful way. I actually thought they loved me when I was younger. But then I grew up and out of the child phase. They loved to have babies, but the problem is that babies grow up." Sam shrugged. "They adopted more little kids and forgot about the older ones. It's right, I was left neglected, but actually that happened to all the older children. We had just to take care of ourselves. We had to prepare our own meals, which wouldn't have been bad in the first place." Sam stopped, obviously not in the mood to say more about it.

But Dean had no intention to let it go. "So?" he broached the subject.

Sam sighed. "Every time my foster parents stuffed the fridge I had to be quick. My older foster siblings Jack and Alex thought it was fun to eat it all as fast as they could and leave nothing to me. If it was too much they would hide the food somewhere else just so I couldn't get any."

"Sickin' fuckin' assholes," Deen seethed. "I should have killed them when I had the chance."

"We don't kill humans, Dean," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, Sam." John's expression matched Dean's when he gritted his teeth. "And that's where Dean is right. He should have killed them. No wonder you were so skinny when we met you."

Sam shrugged again. "The worst thing was that the bathroom wasn't quite handicapped accessible."

"What do you mean?" Dean stared at him incredulously. "You couldn't get into the bathroom?"

"Not with my wheelchair."

"Was that the reason your foster parents forced you to use a catheter?" John asked in a thoughtful tone of voice.

"Among other things." Sam stared down at his legs.

"So what did you do?" Unintentionally, Dean 's grip on Sam's shoulder intensified until Sam grimaced with pain. Appalled, Dean loosened his grip. "I'm sorry, Sam. I…"

"It's okay, Dean." Absentmindedly, Sam rubbed his shoulder. "Most of the time I just crawled into the bathroom. I had a stool there I could use to reach the sink. Sometimes I used my foster brother's chair. Alex and Jack had some kind of office chair with wheels. It was small enough to fit through the door. They didn't want me to take it, but sometimes they allowed it." Self-consciously, Sam bit his lip again. "And sometimes they allowed it just to topple me over."

Laying his calloused hands on his son's unfeeling legs, John sighed deeply. "I'm so sorry, Sammy, that you had to live like this. If I had paid more attention when I brought Dean out of our house I would have noticed that he wasn't carrying you anymore."

"And if I hadn't dropped you in the first place…" Dean started, but Sam cut him short, his gaze wandering between his father and Dean.

"It's not your fault, dad. Neither is it your's, Dean. It just happened. I'm just glad you found me." He snorted. "Maybe I needed all this to get strong. What kind of guy would I have become with you two mother-henning over me all the time? A wimp."

"That's not true," Dean protested.

John looked at his oldest son, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. He knew it was true. Dean felt responsible for Sam being in a wheelchair and John couldn't even imagine how overprotective Dean would have acted with a disabled kid brother. Still, it didn't mean that Sam deserved the life he had been forced to live in his youth.

Confused at their father's smile, Dean changed the subject. "What did your foster parents say then? I mean they must have noticed how you were treated by those idiots. Didn't they help you or punish those two brats?"

"They said I'm old enough to fight my own fights. They said being a cripple wouldn't earn me a special treatment and I should quit being a wuss."

Dean turned to John, his nostrils flaring and his hands shaking in anger. "What do you think, dad? Does this hunt allow us the time to go and kill those bastards?"

"I'd love to have a chat with them." John looked more sad than angry. "From parent to parent." Suddenly, his eyes flashed. "And then I want to tell them what I think about them neglecting and hurting my boy like that." He stood up and started pacing the room. "I can't get it it took us eight years to have you talk about this all."

"You tried, dad," Sam reassured him. "I never wanted to talk about it. It's just so embarrassing. Must be this town and the memories that make me so talkative."

Again, Dean laid his arm around Sam's shoulders. "It's not embarrassing, Sam. At least not for you. They should be embarrassed. I wonder why those people adopted children in the first place, if they didn't want to have them."

Sam shrugged. "I think I remember hearing a neighbor talk about them and how they were unable to have children on their own. I think they might have become obsessed with kids. They kept taking in these young foster kids to make up for never getting to watch their baby grow. Or at least that's how I take it." Sam shrugged once more, not sure what to make of everything.

"Just because they might have thought that way Sammy doesn't make what they did any better." John spoke up, looking at Sam intently. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that and they should have been thrown in jail to rot for the rest of their lives. Everything that happened here should never have happened to anyone, let alone someone like you."

Sam smiled slightly. "It's okay, dad. After all, you found me which is a miracle in itself and you came at the perfect timing, which Dean knows all too well." Sam remembered lying frozen on the ground, sure to die if his brother hadn't saved him. "It's just how the events of life turn out, this is how my life played and I'm sure happy it did because I love where I am right now."

Dean looked at Sam with a sense of relief but quickly shook his head in mock disgust. "You always have something cheesy to come up with in moments like these, don't you little brother?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing and thanks to Gabi for writing a good ending part once again. :) I hope you'll enjoy!_

* * *

Later on that day John had decided that he and Dean would give some interviews around town, pretending that they were FBI investigators while Sam would go to the library to do research. Sam didn't mind having to sit out on the interviews where they had to be police or FBI, he wasn't that well of a liar when it came to a situation like that. He always would end up sympathizing with the person other than trying to get information from them. It wasn't just being in a wheelchair that made it impossible for him to be an agent but his behavior as well. He was just too nice. And plus, Dean couldn't do research well, which left Sam in charge of that.

Right before they decided to leave, while John was in the bathroom taking a quick shower and shaving Dean asked him a random question.

"Sam, how many brothers and sisters did you have?" Sam was confused for a second, then realized Dean was picking up from their earlier conversation.

Sam turned around to face him with a smile. "Only one. I've always only had one brother."

Dean cocked his head for a moment before choosing to roll his eyes. "Doofus. I'm not talking about me. I mean at the foster house."

"I didn't have any at the foster house Dean. My only sibling was traveling the country with our dad."

Dean seemed to be getting frustrated. "Can you cut the weirdo crap you're trying to pull and just answer my question?"

Sam sighed, Dean could act so dense sometimes when it came to himself. "I did answer your question Dean and you don't seem to understand me. There were always a bunch of kids in that house at one time, but none of them were my siblings, only you are. I never once considered them my brothers and sisters. We might have lived in the same house and were raised by the same sick parents but we weren't family at all, we weren't blood."

Sam saw his brother's face soften at once and a ghost of a smile was on his face. Dean would never ever admit it, but Sam knew just how much those words had meant to him. Knowing that Sam had only considered him his brother.

"So you remember any of them?"

Sam bit his lip and tried to think way back. He hadn't been particularly close to any of them really, if anything he had been the closest to the younger kids who never really judged him.

"Well, when I was growing up there were a few older kids but they all moved out as soon as they were 18. Tracy, she was really nice and she helped me a lot, but then she went to college. I really missed her. When I met you we were six kids in the house. You certainly remember Alex and Jake…" Sam paused to smile at Dean who stood there clenching his fists in a sudden outburst of anger when he remembered the two boys that were always picking at his little brother. "Then there was Cara," Sam continued. "She was seven when I left, and William was four. A few months earlier a baby girl was added to the family but I wasn't allowed to get near her."

"Really?" Dean couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe they were afraid I would run over her with my wheelchair."

Dean huffed, but Sam just shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Cara and William were nice kids. My foster parents still cared for William, but Cara was on the border line of being forgotten. Sometimes I heard her crying in the night and I comforted her more than once."

"You think those two will still be there?" Dean asked thoughtfully. People didn't give Dean enough credit. He was always thinking of other people, always wanting to help someone else out. Really, Sam couldn't think of a nicer or more caring person than his brother.

Yeah, I guess. Cara would have turned 16 in March and William just 12. There's no place where they could go to."

Dean nodded as he tried to button up his white dress shirt with some difficulty over his belly. Why wouldn't he just get new clothes? Sam thought it would make it so much easier and Dean would be more comfortable.

"You want to just wear my shirt? It would probably fit you better." Sure Sam might be quite a bit thinner than Dean but he was taller and he had bigger arm muscles, which led to him wearing bigger sized shirts than what Dean used to wear.

Dean just shook his head, determined and stubborn. He sighed and then sucked in his stomach until he was finally able to button it. He shifted uncomfortably in a shirt that had been too small for him to begin with. Sam thought that if he so much as breathed the shirt could rip off.

"Maybe you can pay them a visit after the hunt, looking how they're doing." Dean changed the subject back again.

"Yeah, I'd love to be able to help them. The least I could do is offer them some advice and find a different home for them to go to." Sam replied as he wheeled over to the table and grabbed the keys for the Impala that he would take to the library. Dean was now buttoning his suit which fit him such better but it was noticeably tighter.

"We should shut that place down while we're here. I'm not leaving until those assholes get what they deserve." Dean's eyes narrowed and the look on his face turned feral. If Sam was anyone else he would be frightened by his brother right now.

John came out of the bathroom then dressed in his suit and Dean seemed to relax for the moment.

"You remember to take one of those pills Dean" John asked. Now that Dean's cravings for cigarettes were lessening he was forgetting to take the pills sometimes, needing reminders from his family. Dean claimed that he didn't need them anymore but Sam had a feeling that the second he stopped taking them Dean would be hit with symptoms.

"Shit." Dean murmured and started rifling through his bag in search of the pill box. It had to be hard to find because of the hazard mess that took a living inside Dean's duffle.

John sighed and shook his head. "God, you'd think we'd have to start mushing up the pills and sprinkling them in your food."

Sam chuckled. "That would be perfect Dad. Or just sprinkle it in his beer."

"He probably shouldn't even be drinking beer while he's on those things." John pointed out.

Dean whipped his head around to glare at them both, pill box still lost in the dirty clothes and food wrappers. "Will you quit it? There's no way you could expect me to quit smoking and give up drinking at the same time. Uh-uh. 'Aint gonna happen."

"We're just lucky you aren't an alcoholic....yet. It would be downright impossible to get you off your beer. We'd have no chance in Hell." John stated and was doing a great job at keeping his face straight.

Dean's face scrunched up tight and he looked as well as sounded like a whiny twelve year-old. "I am not an alcoholic and I never will be! God, just because I like a beer often doesn't mean I'm addicted to the stuff. And I only drink beer, not all that vodka and crap that has more alcohol in it."

Sam laughed out loud again, wanting to take the glorious opportunity to take part in this conversation while he had the chance. "Take a chill-pill Dean, or rather your smoking pill...if you can find it that is."

Dean's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he gave Sam an angry glare and flipped him off.

"Nice comeback Dean, what a classic." Sam replied with a wide grin.

"Yeah well we'll see who will be the one laughing next time you want to get out of the car and I steal your wheelchair."

John cocked an eyebrow at that statement. "You wouldn't do this."

Dean shrugged. "Payback's a bitch." He finally pulled out the pills and popped one in his mouth. His tone changed to a mocking voice. "Happy now everyone? Little Dean took his medicine."

* * *

Sam shook his head as he drove to the library. His family was so odd, especially his brother. How the hell had a serious conversation started from Dean asking if Sam had any siblings turn into another one of their bickering sessions about his former habit? It was strange to say the least, but Sam loved every moment of it.

He reached the library and pulled into one of the empty handicapped spots in the front. He remembered this building all too well from days of hiding away it to escape the neglect and bullying. He had even fallen asleep in the library a few times overnight, in a spot of the building that janitors tended to miss. It was one of the better memories of his childhood he assumed as he reached for his folded up chair next to him.

Sam unfolded the wheelchair with ease outside of the car door, grateful that his wrist had finally healed and he was as independent as he could be again. It was a great feeling. He caught a few people watching him but only with innocent curiosity as if they were so amazed that a person could handle themselves as Sam was. Someone looked torn between asking Sam if he needed help but not wanting to insult him. They all seemed to be in awe after Sam was seated in his chair and closed and locked the Impala's door. It was what he was used to every time he exited or entered a vehicle.

Ignoring the stares Sam made his way to the long ramp which led to the library door. They obviously had updated somewhat, as there were now handicap accessible doors. That made Sam happy; the entrance door used to be a heavy one that he wasn't able to open on his own then and he hated asking people to open it for him. He pushed the wheelchair button and waited for the slow moving door to open before he made his way inside.

As he took in the library Sam could tell right away that they hadn't changed anything around inside. He headed right towards the computers, relieved to see that they at least had semi-new machines and not the old dinosaur computers he remembered. It was hard to believe but a lot of libraries didn't update their computers at all.

First thing's first, Sam had to get a list of the victims and the police reports from the town's newspaper databases on the computer. They went much more in depth than anything he could find online. He shoved the wooden chair aside, pushing it so hard it almost toppled to the ground, causing one of the librarians to glare at him. Sometimes he misjudged his own strength.

Sam blushed, put on his puppy-dog eyes and mouthed 'sorry' to the lady, causing her to melt right in front of him. She smiled and nodded. He really had a secret weapon with that expression. Along with the wheelchair it really made people coo over him and find him completely harmless. The eyes also caused Dean to give in to nearly anything Sam wanted. Not that he took advantage of it. At least not very often.

Pulling up his wheelchair under the desk, Sam started looking through any of the reports and newspaper articles he could find. He stopped when he read the latest victim's name. Diane Culler. Culler....Culler.... He swore he knew someone by that name. A neighbor maybe? Teacher seemed more likely. Sam wracked his brain for a few more seconds before it clicked. Mr. Culler had been the history teacher Sam had when Dean came into the class. He had been a real jerk. Was Diane his wife?

What was even more shocking was the person who was assumed to have killed her. Gregory Mendel. Mr. and Mrs. Mendel had been a friendly couple that lived across the street from Sam's foster house. Sam thought back to the times when they'd let him come over and have something to eat. They'd even offer him money but Sam would refuse unless they let him do odd jobs to earn it. They had been so kind and seemed to be the perfect family. Sam couldn't believe it.

Sam jutted down Diane's address and also the Mendel family as they had moved across town and also printed the articles out, along with any other information he had found. None of the victims seemed to have anything in common. Neither did the murderers, their friends and family saying that they would never do such a thing. Some of the murderers had been found dead from suicide, others locked up and put in institutions because they had gone crazy. But the more Sam dug on he found out a very small connection, not about the victims, but the people who killed them. Each of them did have some sort of criminal background. Mr. Mendel had a few breaking and entering charges back when he was a teenager, one of them had been caught twice for driving drunk years back and another for taking his son from his ex-girlfriend's house. The mother had called the cops on 'kidnapping'.

None of the charges were too serious though, which left Sam baffled. Maybe there was a curse in the town? Or some spirit possessed people who had done wrong in the past? But then why would the spirit have the person kill others? Just out of spite? It was a possibility but Sam thought he might have to get some information on the town first.

Sam always enjoyed reading through towns' history books than reading it up online. Actually, he preferred reading a book any day, something he got called a geek for constantly by Dean. The only problem was that he couldn't reach many of the shelves. Sam sighed as he wheeled himself down to the aisle that would contain the town's history books, only to see the books he was looking for way above his reach.

Sam glanced around him for a librarian, only to find a teenage girl in the aisle next to him, flipping through books. Great. Now he'd have to search the whole library and track down a librarian. He would just ask the girl, but he didn't want to bug her. She looked busy and also like the type that might get embarrassed or shy around handicapped people, so he didn't want to put her through anything. It was times like these when he wished he was good enough on crutches to be able to use them when he wanted. Soon enough....

"Excuse me?" Sam came out of his haze to see the teenage girl walking up to him. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but it looks like you might have trouble reaching a book."

Alright, maybe Sam misjudged her. "Actually, you're exactly right. I wanted to check out those books on Holton up there, but there's no way I could reach them."

The girl offered him a kind smile. "I don't even think I can reach them without these stools." She said as she dragged one over and stood on it. "You think they would have some more courtesy, you know?" She grabbed the books and hopped down, handing them to Sam.

"Thanks." He smiled. "I don't hold it against anyone, I mean it's not like there are many people in wheelchairs."

The girl shook her head. "I have to say I don't agree with you there. I think people should be much more considerate." Sam had to admit he liked this girl. "That's one funky tan line you've got going on there." She giggled and pointed to Sam's right arm where his cast had been.

Sam grinned and blushed, looking down. "Yeah, well I broke my wrist and just got my cast off. I doubt it will ever match my skin this summer." He glanced back up to see the girl staring at him. Really staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face. It was kind of creepy.

"Ummm....is something wrong?" He hesitated a bit to ask.

The girl shook her head quickly, immediately blushing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I was just caught off guard at your smile. I had a foster brother that had nearly that same unique smile, dimples and all. And you know what; he was also in a wheelchair."

Now it was Sam's turn to stare at the girl's face. It couldn't be... "Cara?" He asked, ready to feel stupid if it wasn't her.

"Sam?!" She practically shouted, not caring that she was in a library apparently. At Sam's nod she flung herself on him, making the books on his lap go crashing to the ground as she hugged him tightly. Sam put his arms awkwardly around her, taken aback by the hug.

"Oh my God! I thought you were dead Sam!" She said as she pulled back, a few tears falling down her face. "I thought maybe those two jerks had done something to you or you got kidnapped...I..."

"Wait, you thought I was dead?" Sam asked, not realizing that his absence from the town could definitely have been taken that way.

"Well yeah! I didn't think you'd be able to just run away. I mean you were what? Fifteen?"

"Fourteen." Sam corrected.

"Exactly! It's not like you could just live somewhere on your own and you wouldn't make it on the streets in a wheelchair. What the heck did you end up doing? Were you nuts?"

A librarian shushed them and Sam dropped his voice, not even feeling guilty.

"You'll never believe this but I found my real family, my birth family. Well actually they found me. I became friends with this kid Dean in school and we started hanging out. Eventually we put things together and Dean realized I was his brother that had been assumed dead."

Cara's mouth dropped. "How did he find out?"

Sam smiled and dug in his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out the picture Dean had shown him eight years before. "This is a picture of my family. See that nightshirt I'm wearing with my name on it? That's the same one I was found in when I was placed into the adoption center, they napped a picture of me when they found me."

Cara took the picture in her hands and smiled genuinely. "Wow. So you have a mother, father and brother? Your mom is so pretty Sam."

Sam cringed a little bit as he handed her another photo. "Actually my mom died the same night I was thought to be dead. I never really knew her. It's just my dad and my brother and I. Here's a picture of the three of us from last year."

Cara's smile only got bigger upon seeing Sam with his family in the picture. "Was this at Niagara Falls?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, we stopped there and my Dad had wanted to get a few pictures. We don't take many because my brother hates them, but he actually behaved for this picture." They had actually been at Niagara Falls because of a hunt the year before. But John had insisted that they should stay a while and was intent on taking pictures. Dean had told Sam that John would never had been caught dead with a camera in hand, but since Sam had come into the family it was like he was determined to get pictures of his boys every year.

Cara laughed as she looked at Dean. "He's _cute!_" She giggled. Typical.

"And he's twenty-six." Sam rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "So don't be getting any ideas."

"A ten year age difference isn't so bad."

"Yeah, like when you're forty and fifty, not sixteen and twenty-six. Even though he does act like a teenager anyway."

"See, we'd be perfect together!" Cara joked and Sam remembered how much he had missed this girl. They had really gotten along well back at the house and Cara had just loved Sam and looked up to him. That didn't seem to change.

Cara looked down at the books on the floor and picked them up for Sam again. "So what are you doing back here? And why do you want books on Holton? It's possibly the most boring place on the face of the planet."

Crap. So much for spending time here researching. "Well I got word of some deaths; I was close to a few families and wanted to visit some of them. Offer my sympathies. And about the books...I don't know. I guess I grew up in this town and never knew much about it, just wanted to know more." Lame reasoning Sam, real smooth. "So are you still living in the foster house?"

Cara didn't seem suspicious of anything as she answered Sam's question. "Yeah, I can't wait until I'm eighteen and can leave though."

Sam sighed, poor girl. If he had his way he'd try to find homes and families for every single orphaned child. "I'm sorry. I wish there was some way I could get you out of there."

"Actually, it's not that bad. I mean, I know you had a hard time there because of those other kids. But I'm the oldest one, I'm left by myself all the time but I don't really mind. I'm a pretty independent person. And it's my job to take care of the younger ones."

"Is William still there? How is he?" Sam was curious and couldn't help to ask.

"Oh Will? He's good. He tends to get pretty sad sometimes but I take care of it. Speaking of Will, he should be getting out of school. So I should get going so I'll be home when he is. I just like stopping here after the high school gets out to check out some books."

Sam remembered the long trips back to the house from the library and really had no choice but to offer her a ride. "Do you want me to drive you back there? It'd be a lot quicker."

Cara looked at him almost like he had two heads. "You can drive? But how?"

Sam had to laugh at her shock and confusion. It was so innocent. "You've never heard of hand controls for a car?" At the shake of her head Sam went on. "It's how people like me are able to get around. If you can't use your legs then you can use your hands. We got them installed in my brother's car."

With a smile Cara nodded. "It wouldn't be out of your way though, would it?"

"Nah, I have nothing else to do, I'll just check these out and we'll go."

During their whole conversation, actually since he had hugged Cara, Sam had felt the security guard stare at him. The man hadn't changed much since the time Sam had visited the library on a regular basis and he had recognized him at once. Sam smirked. The man was just about ten years older than he was. Sam knew that he had started working in the library when he was in high-school and got the security job shortly after. Apparently, he was still stuck here. Or maybe he just liked the job. It wasn't that library users were extremely dangerous and his job mostly was to reprimand children to be silent. He never had liked to have children in 'his' library. They were too loud, too noisy and used to stain the books with their dirty little hands. In the beginning, when the library wasn't exactly handicapped accessible it was him who had to help Sam over the stairs at the entrance and he never concealed his disgust at being reduced to an aide for a gimp. At that time Sam was afraid of the man and glad when his way more friendly colleague was there to help him but now he could only smirk when he felt the man's stare in his back.

When he was done he laid Cara's backpack in his lap and smiled at her. "Ready to go?"

She nodded. "Yeah." Sheepishly, she laid her hand on his shoulder. "You're so tall, Sam. And cute. I can't believe it's you."

"You wanna say I wasn't cute back then?" Sam laughed good-naturedly. But the smile vanished abruptly when the security man blocked their way at the door. His arms folded threateningly in front of his chest, he looked down at Sam with squinted eyes. "Where do you think you're going with that girl?" He looked at Cara. "The cripple bothering you?"

"Relax, Joe," Sam said before Cara even recovered from her surprise. "I'm not going to rape her."

The burly man stared at Sam, bewildered. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah, Joe, you do. And while you spend some quality time thinking you can step aside and let us pass." Determined, Sam shoved the man aside and left with Cara in tow.

The young girl was still giggling when they reached the parking lot. "That was great, Sam. I've never seen Joe as flabbergasted as that." Her eyes widened when Sam approached the Impala. "That's your car? Wow. She's a beauty."

Opening the door, Sam smiled as he got in and started folding up his wheelchair. "You should tell Dean. You'll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time."

"You love him a lot, don't you?"

"Dean? He's a real pain in the ass," Sam stated, but his smile and the sparkle in his eyes told a different story.

"I'm so happy you found your family." Cara leaned back into the seat when Sam started the car. "You know the way?"

"I guess." Sam shot her a side-glance. "You're really fine there?"

Cara shrugged. "It's way better than staying in an orphanage. It has its advantages when you have to look after yourself. I can practically do what I want as long as I'm at home at 10 p.m."

"And you look after the younger ones?"

"Just William and Cindy. William is very independent, he doesn't need me much." She frowned. "Do you remember Cindy?"

„Yeah, she was a few months old when I left."

Cara's face lit up. "Yes, I remember. One day she started crying and you took her out of the crib. Susan almost had a fit because she thought you might drop her."

Sam smiled sadly at the memory. "They never allowed me to take her again after that."

"Actually, Susan never managed to console her like you could. You were an awesome big brother."

Sam blushed. "You don't call her mom anymore?"

"No. I haven't been calling her mom for eight years now." Licking her lips Cara met Sam's curious gaze. "I was so shocked how little they cared about your disappearance that I decided they wouldn't be my parents any longer. So I started calling them by their names. Susan and Charles. They never complained, I guess it's okay with them."

Sam had to swallow. There he had been thinking that it wouldn't affect anyone if he just disappeared into thin air. He never thought that him leaving would have such a great impact on his little foster sister.

Cara wasn't aware of his inner turmoil. "Have you heard what happened to Mr. Culler's wife? That's so awful."

Sam was glad for the change of subject. He nodded thoughtfully. "I can't believe Mr. Mendel murdered her. Why should he do such a thing?"

"He wasn't doing it."

"What do you mean?" Sam frowned.

"Charles and Mr. Mendel use to hang out in the local bar every Friday night. Last Friday when Mrs. Culler was killed was no different."

"But I read in that article that Mr. Culler identified Mr. Mendel."

"I know, but fact is that Mr. Mendel was at the bar when Mrs. Culler was killed. Charles and a lot of other people can testify to it. Mr. Mendel is still under arrest but I think they'll set him free today. Maybe the killer looks a bit like him."

"Maybe." Biting his lip, Sam was digesting the information. So much for a vengeful spirit possessing the people. Could a person be at two different places at the same time? Actually, he believed Mr. Culler who told the police that he recognized the killer. If something supernatural was involved, everything was possible.

He stopped the car in front of the house where he used to live. A lot of memories flooded his mind at the sight and only a very few were pleasant.

Cara watched him. "Do you want to come inside? Meet William and Cindy?"

Slowly, Sam shook his head. "Not this time, Cara. I look forward to meet them, but not now."

Gently, Cara ran her hand over his arm. "I understand. That's not easy for you, is it?"

"Not exactly. Do you know what happened to Alex and Jake?"

"Alex lives here in Holton." When Sam cringed, Cara added: "He has changed a lot. He's a husband and a father now. He's actually quite nice. He even apologized to me and William for being such a moron when he was a teenager."

"And Jake?"

"He was in jail for a few years. He lives in Topeka now but I've also seen him here around. He hasn't changed. He's as mean as he used to be and he's the kind of guy that never changes." A smile crept across her face when she looked at Sam.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just, Jake never grew very tall or strong. I guess he wouldn't stand a chance against you now."

"I'm still in a wheelchair, Cara," Sam reminded her.

"So what? I saw you with Joe. You don't take crap from these dicks anymore. I guess Jake will have to get his ass covered if he ever has the tough luck to run into you again."

Not waiting for an answer she got out of the car, but turned back before she shut the door. "I'm really glad that you're not dead, Sam."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, me too." Smiling, he watched the girl run into the house. He was happy that Cara did so well. Maybe the home really wasn't so bad after Alex and Jake had left.

After looking at the house for a few more minutes and taking another not too pleasant trip down memory lane, he revved the engine and drove back to the motel where his family was waiting for him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long! But the good thing is that the next chapter is pretty much finished as well. Thank you for your patience and your kind reviews, it means a lot! Thank you again to me beta Gabi for encouraging me and helping me through this even though I was very busy and had a lot on my mind at the time. I couldn't have done it without you!_

* * *

Sam entered the motel room to find Dean and John in the middle of a discussion. John was cleaning weapons and Dean was pacing the room. Sam suppressed a chuckle when he noticed that Dean had already ditched his FBI uniform and had put on one of Sam's t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

"Nice pants dude." Sam laughed as he passed Dean to place the books on the table.

Dean glared at Sam. "Shut up. They're comfortable."

Sam just rolled his eyes as he looked up at Dean. "So, what did you guys find out?"

"Not much. We just talked to the cops." Dean shrugged and sat on the bed. "No one told us anything new. The guy who killed the woman was a really nice man. No one thought he would do it, blah blah blah. Apparently the woman's husband saw the murderer because he was in the room when it happened. This guy named Greg. But other people are telling us he was in a bar at the time."

"Greg was really nice, and so was his wife. I knew them both Dean, I helped them out on occasion and I know he wasn't the type of man to do something like this."

"Maybe he changed."

"But that doesn't rule out the fact that he was seen in two places at once." John butted in. "We were waiting for you so we could decide how we should try to talk to Greg's wife."

"Maybe she'll remember me. So I say we all just go to talk to her. No faking identities or anything, just try and find out what happened."

"You remember where they lived?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, unless they moved. It's just a few blocks away. Oh...and Dean you know the woman that was killed?"

"Yeah?

"Her husband was Mr. Culler. Our jerk history teacher. Remember him?"

Dean's mouth dropped. "Oh! I knew the name sounded familiar when the cops mentioned it." Then suddenly his face turned sour. "Yeah, I remember him alright. I remember how he basically made me the laughing stock of the class."

Sam shook his head in disgust. "Yeah, that's the guy. I figure that we're going to have to interview him too just incase he might know something. Did you guys find out anything about the past murders?"

"A couple months back the same thing nearly happened." John spoke up again, looking at both of his boys. "This time it was a teenager that had shot a fellow student as she was walking home from school. People saw it, but she was also confirmed by classmates and the teacher that she was in drama club at the time. They just assumed it was a girl from out of town that looked like her. The girl's family moved soon after so there's no way we could talk to them. And then there was something similar nearly a year ago."

"Great." Sam huffed.

"I'm thinking it could be a shape shifter. It kinda sounds like it could be one, doesn't it?" Dean offered with a shrug.

Sam thought about that for a moment. "It could be but for what reason would a shape shifter be killing off random people like this?"

"Because it can." Dean pointed out, causing Sam to roll his eyes.

"Usually shape shifters have a motive though Dean, all the other ones we've crossed had. Killing random people is something a vampire or Wendigo would do."

Dean gave Sam an annoyed glare and stalked towards the fridge. "Fine, fine almighty smart one. I forgot that you're the one that has to always be right." His tone was bitter and left Sam wondering what the hell he had done wrong.

"I'm not saying it's not a shifter Dean. You could be right. But I remember reading something in one of Bobby's books about a creature it could be. I forgot the name but it could make people imagine things. Maybe it made the people who were at the scene of the crime think they saw a townsperson commit the murder."

"Always so technical." Dean muttered as he pulled out a tub of ice cream from the mini-freezer. It was cookie dough, Sam's favorite.

"Hey, where the hell did you get that?" Sam asked, wheeling over to Dean, the debate over the case currently forgotten.

"I bought it at the store while you were still chit chatting with your little friends in the library. I had all intentions to share it with you, but since you're being such an annoying fricken' know-it-all gimp you're not getting any."

"Dean come on!" Sam whined, reaching over to get it but Dean just shook his hand as he ran away, jumped onto the nearest bed and held the tub high above his head.

"Ha! Now there's no way you can get it! You're going to have to suffer while I eat it in front of your face!" Sam glared at his brother. He hated when Dean would get moody like this because of his cravings. He didn't get them very often anymore but when he did it was annoying.

"Dean!" John growled out. "Get off of the bed and quit acting like you're two years old. And put away that ice cream you just had some dessert. Sam could be right and so could you. But to find out who is right we have to get more information. Sam you suggested that we should talk to the wife of the man that was convicted of the murder, so I say we do that now."

Dean let out a loud sigh as he put away the ice cream. "So let me just see if I have this straight...Greg Mendel is the supposed murderer who is in custody. We're going to talk to his wife. He killed Mrs. Culler the wife of our history teacher, who was in the room when it happened?"

"Yeah, it's weird how all the people are connected." Sam agreed

"Tell me about it." Dean muttered. "I just can't wait until we get the hell outta this town for good."

* * *

Sam knocked on Mrs. Mendel's front door with his brother and father standing behind him awkwardly. It was strange that his family was finally meeting people that Sam knew. Ever since Sam reunited with Dean and John he had been the awkward and unsure one when meeting so many people that his father and brother already knew. It was a weird turn of event to say the least, and he wasn't all too sure that he liked it.

Finally Mrs. Mendel came to the door, obviously she had been expecting someone when her anxious face just turned to confusion at seeing the three men at her door. Then, she suddenly began to panic.

"I don't want anyone to ask me anymore questions about my husband! _No_ we did _not_ have a fight! He was _not _having an affair! He was _never_ violent in any way and he could have _never_ killed that woman!" She practically yelled at them all and almost slammed the door shut before Sam could get a word in.

"Wait! Mrs. Mendel! Do you recognize me? I'm Sam that used to live across the street…I'd help you and your husband sometimes and you guys would always give me food?"

The woman's face scrunched up for a second before realization dawned in her eyes. "Oh! Sam! Sweet little Sam! That really you? Look at you…you're all grown up and so strong! My gosh…" Her eyes roamed Sam with fascination. "You just disappeared one day and me and Greg had feared the worst. Thank God you're okay! What happened? Did you escape that nasty foster house? And who are these two men? "

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. She had always been a big chatterbox, full of energy and kindness.

"Actually, it's a crazy story but it's true. All those years ago I ended up running into this guy here at school." He said and pointed towards Dean who grinned and blushed. "I became friends with him and we eventually figured out that I was his brother. My family had thought I had died in a fire."

"What? Oh my goodness! That's insane Sam, don't you know that?" Mrs. Mendel looked like she had just heard the best gossip of the month.

Sam smiled. „Oh yeah, I know. But it's true and I'm just really really lucky to have run into them and figured it all out. This is my brother Dean and this is my dad, John." Sam introduced his family to his former neighbor.

Mrs. Mendel quickly shook their hands with enthusiasm. "Oh, how wonderful! You sound so happy Sam, and I'm so glad to hear this! Please, come in! It's so nice to see you and any family of yours is a friend of mine."

They stepped inside as Mrs. Mendel walked ahead of them and immediately the two oldest Winchesters were taken aback by the decorations in her house.

"What the..." Dean murmured, almost a little too loud. Sam reached over and punched him in the arm to tell him to be quiet but that just seemed to aggravate his brother's mood at him some more.

"I forgot to mention that Mrs. Mendel has a little obsession with birds..." He whispered.

"Really now? 'A little'? It's like a gigantic birds nest in here! Are you sure she has a husband?" Dean hissed back in a quiet voice but once they entered her living room he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth dropping. Sam looked over to his dad and saw how he was fidgeting slightly and looking very very uncomfortable. Sam tried not to laugh, John hated birds...they were probably the one thing he was afraid of.

Sam himself couldn't help but notice that she had gone even crazier with her bird collection. She had countless pictures on the wall, ceramic painted birds on every table. Bird houses hung from the wall and she had a massive collection of those little stuffed birds that chirp when you squeeze them on her entertainment center. She even had a bird clock and colorful parrot blanket on her couch where Dean and John sat down. Not to mention the six bird cages in the room with a giant cockatoo bird that was just roaming the room freely like he owned the place. Sam saw his father go another shade paler as he shifted as far away from the bird as he possibly could.

However once Dean saw the white bird he grinned and started tempting the bird to come to him by waving his hands. Dean loved any kind of animal and Sam thought it was a good thing that their family business was hunting monsters because if it was animal hunting...there was no way Dean could ever do it. He may have acted tough but when it came to animals he had a big soft spot for them.

Mrs. Mendel beamed as the bird walked right up to Dean and hopped into his lap. Dean started petting it and John moved to the other side of the couch. Sam sighed at his family's strangeness and wheeled to the middle of the couch before transferring himself onto it. He'd rather sit in his wheelchair but it would have looked awkward having a huge empty gap on the couch with John and Dean on either side.

"Ohh he likes you!" The woman cooed. "Don't you Coconut?"

Dean cringed at the name, but other than that kept petting the bird soundlessly.

"So I just have to tell you." Mrs. Mendel started, finally drawing her attention away from her beloved pet and faced the terrified John Winchester, oblivious to his discomfort. "What a wonderful son you have...John right?"

John nodded, trying to take his eyes off of the bird in his eldest son's lap.

"Sam here was such a sweetheart to me and Greg. You see, my husband first ran into him at the library. He was taking summer courses at the community college. Apparently he vented his frustration over the history assignment he was doing a little too loud and Sam overheard and offered to help him. He was only what...twelve maybe...eleven...and he helped my husband with his college leveled history homework!"

Finally John's attention from the bird was adverted as he looked over at his youngest son, his eyes and smile shining with pride.

Sam blushed and looked down, not noticing how his brother had gone rigid. "Mrs. Mendel...please...you're making it sound like I was some genius. I never had anything to do so I spent all my time at the library reading books. I really liked the Revolutionary War which is why I could help your husband with some of that. But I never could have helped him with all of that...and plus he was taking a lower leveled history class anyway..."

"Oh nonsense! And please call me Anne." The woman shook her head. "Don't try to bring yourself down. No matter what, you were such a smart boy! And you were so dedicated too. Greg invited you to come over here in the first place so he could brag about you to me. Whenever we were out or busy Sam would take care of the birds for us by feeding them and giving them company, not to mention he even helped us do our taxes a few times!" She chuckled. "Such a smart boy, you must be so proud."

John beamed as Sam blushed yet again. He patted his son on the shoulder. "Yeah, I am."

It was then when Sam realized Dean had stopped petting the bird. He turned to look at his brother to find Dean with his head down, staring at his lap. His hands were shaking slightly and suddenly Sam felt horrible. He and John never brought up anything serious about intelligence or education up to Dean. He just squeaked by in high school...and two years late. They both knew Dean felt bad and embarrassed about it, especially with Sam being as smart as he was. It wasn't that Dean wasn't a smart guy...he was and Sam had no doubt about it. He just had so much trouble in school with his dyslexia and stuff didn't come as easily to him. That didn't mean he wasn't intelligent just because he didn't have book smarts.

Before Sam could say anything to his brother though Anne must had noticed something was up with Dean as well. "And I bet those smarts run in the family now, huh?" She smiled, eyeing Dean, obviously feeling a little bad for saying such nice things about Sam in front of the older brother.

Dean shook his head, slowly. "Nah, I'm nothing like Sam. I guess he took all of the smarts and left nothing for me." He chuckled without humor, kicked his foot on the carpet, and the bird on his leg cocked its head as it stared at Dean. It must have gotten bored of Dean when he stopped petting it so it scuttled off of his lap, not before leaving something special behind though.

"Son of a...!" Dean startled, standing up and staring at the mess on his pants. He blushed then, turning beat red. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

But Anne just kept on smiling. "Don't worry one bit about it! You should see me when one of these little pests decides to use me as their toilet. Just sit down and don't you worry, I'll be back with something to clean that."

"Dean..." Sam started but his brother just turned his head away from him.

"Don't Sam. Don't even bother. We all know you're the brains in this family."

And before either Sam or John could say anything else Anne was back with a wet washcloth and some kind of stain remover. In a matter of a minute Dean's sweatpants were clean, leaving only a wet spot behind.

"Great, now it looks like I've wet myself..." Dean continued his angry mumbling but Anne just smiled at him, obviously enjoying his personality before she turned back to Sam.

"So Sam..." Mrs. Mendel started, finally not distracted by something. "What brings you and your family here? Obviously you three didn't stay here in Holton."

Now they could actually get to business. "Well we kinda were near the area and I thought it would be nice to stop by and meet up with some old friends. How are you doing Mrs. Me...Anne?"

And just like that it was like the light had been turned off in Anne's body. She visibly crumpled, slouching down on the couch and her face looked as if she were about to cry. It was almost as if this visit had distracted her and now she was brought back into reality.

"You won't believe it." She said, already starting to cry. "There was a murder a few days ago and they think Greg did it!"

"You're kidding, there's no way he would do such a thing." Sam told her, trying to sound surprised.

"I know!" Anne let out a choked sob. "I'm so glad you see my side Sam I..."

"Do you have any idea why the cops would think Greg did it then?" Dean interrupted. When Sam looked over at him he could tell that his brother seemed antsy and frustrated.

"Well..." Anne hiccupped before she burst out into full-blown sobs. "The man's wife said he saw Greg do it! His fingerprints are even on some of their stuff! But...but...he goes to the bar on Friday nights, he always does! People even confirmed him being there at the time and he was even caught on tape there! They can't arrest him...they just can't...it's a set-up!"

"Do you know anyone he might have been with at the bar at the time?" John asked her.

"Jus...just the regulars...they're always there...the cops said they couldn't keep Greg with the evidence stacked against him so he should be coming home any minute but he's not...I'm getting worried..."

"Uhm...Anne...can you tell me if Greg was acting strange at all that day or anything? Did he suspect any foul play?"

Anne rapidly shook her head. "Not at all. Why should he have? He didn't even know the woman that he was suspected of...mur...murdering!" She started sobbing again as John shared a look with Sam. They found out all that they could've here, it was time to go.

"Mrs. Mendel..." Sam started.

"Anne!' She suddenly interrupted. "Call me Anne Sam, sweetheart. You're a full grown adult now no need to be formal.

"Right." Sam blushed. "Sorry, it's out of habit. Anyway...Anne...we have to get going, I wish we could stay longer but..."

"Oh, don't worry." Anne replied, sniffing. "Thank you for coming and talking to me. It was so nice to see you again Sam, you've grown into a very handsome young man. And it was so nice to meet your family, I'm so happy for you. In fact, it seems like the good looks run in the family. You know I have this niece around your age that I could..."

While Sam was glad Mrs. Mendel had gotten off the subject of her husband, he shook his head. "Sorry, but I already have a girlfriend." He told her, thinking about Jess and wondering if she tells people about him as well.

Anne beamed. "Well, of course you do! I should have guessed, someone as good looking as you..." She trailed off and turned to Dean. "What about you young man, I assume you already have a girlfriend as well, but Maggie and you would go so perfectly together."

Dean blushed again, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Actually I don't...and it's okay...really..."

"Nonsense!" Anne screeched as they headed out the door. "I'll tell her to stop by in the coming days. She'd love to meet you and you guys will have to come back anyway because as soon as I tell Greg he'll demand to see Sam and his family."

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned away from her.

"We'll have to stop by again for sure." Sam smiled. "And before I forget, I'll give you my cell phone number. Let me know when Greg gets home so I don't have to worry."

"You're just too sweet!" Anne cooed as Dean huffed, they both exchanged numbers and finally parted.

"Well, I sure as hell am glad that's over." Dean muttered as they reached the Impala.

John ignored the comment. "So I guess we should talk to the husband of the murdered woman."

"Our old history teacher." Sam pointed out and watched as Dean cringed. "Actually I think it might be better if I talked to him on my own. He'd probably think it was weird if the whole family came."

John nodded at this. "That sounds good, and then me and Dean can go over to the bar that Greg hung out at and try to get some information there. Then we'll come pick up Sam. What do you say kiddo?" He asked Dean, bumping his shoulder.

"Whatever. I don't care." Dean mumbled.

It took all of Sam's willpower not to slap his big brother and knock him out of whatever mood he was in.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for the wonderful reviews. Here is the next chapter, hope you will enjoy this one as well. Thanks to Gabi who wrote the awesome scene at the end where I was having trouble :)_

* * *

John and Dean sat at the bar; trying to pick out which people Greg hung out with. They had dropped Sam off earlier at the old teacher's house and Dean's mood showed no sign of improving as he downed his second beer. John couldn't take it anymore.

"Son, do you mind telling me what's wrong?"

Dean looked startled, but then squinted his eyes and looked down at his empty beer glass. "Nothin's wrong."

"Don't give me that crap. You've been in a nasty mood ever since Mrs. Mendel's place."

"She just aggravated me, is all." Dean sighed, tracing the condensation on the glass away with his finger.

"And you're still moping about some weird lady you don't even know?" John huffed out a laugh. "That's a load bullshit and you know it."

Dean stared at John with wide eyes but still didn't fess up so John decided to come all out.

"Dean, you can't get upset at Sam because he's a smart kid."

"What?"

"You heard me. Sam can't help that he's smart and people like him. Would you rather him be stupid and hated?"

Now Dean was looking taken back. "No Dad, of course not! What the hell!"

"It sure seems to me that you're jealous of your brother. Doesn't that seem a little childish Dean?"

John could tell he got it wrong the moment the words left his lips. Dean looked furious. "It's not about being jealous of Sam, Dad! I love the kid to death and I am super proud of him. It's not being jealous of him but just so frustrated with myself that no matter what, I can't be like him!"

"Dean, you can't be exactly like Sam..."

"Of course not! If I was I'd have one hell of an ugly haircut and be sitting in a wheelchair. What I'm trying to say is that I'm mad at myself for not being able to do a quarter of the things Sam can. You have so much to be proud of him; he's the shining example of the perfect son. And then you have me. Not only am I incredibly stupid, but I'm annoying, I get in the way constantly, I eat all of our food, I'm a public embarrassment, and I don't listen, especially by smoking for ten straight years. Sometimes I wonder why you two don't get me out at the side of the road."

John shook his head as he stared at disbelief at his eldest son. He thought he had washed away those first 18 years by being a better father, but obviously those years were still affecting Dean in the worst ways.

"First of all Dean you can do just as many things as Sam can, and you can do many more things than him."

"I'm not talking about walking Dad." Dean grunted.

"And neither am I. Come on Dean, why are you doing this? You can't compare yourself to Sam. You're so totally different, yet you complement one another. But if you want to know you have better aim than Sam and you're the better con man."

Dean grinned lopsidedly. "You telling me being able to lie is a good thing?"

"It's vital for our job."

"So what, I'm a better hunter, big fuckin' deal."

"No Dean, that's not it. You don't get it, all those things you said are ridiculous. I'm glad you eat our food, that's what it's there for, maybe Sam should try it sometime. And the smoking...Dean that was all my fault. I practically abandoned you and left you with no one to look up to. I screwed that part of you up and I'm so sorry. I'm lucky you turned out to be the person you are, even without my help. What does it matter that you smoked? You were a kind and good-hearted kid Dean and you still are, you aren't afraid to step up for what you think is right and just that shows me how smart you are, not to mention brave."

"I'm not as smart as Sammy..."

"Yes you are." John sighed and put a hand on his boy's shoulder. "Both of my boys are smart. So what, Sammy's book smart and you're more street smart. All I'm saying is that I have two equally intelligent boys. Just because someone's not good at one area of something doesn't make them stupid. I'm proud of both of you, you're both good boys. I don't give a damn if one can't walk and the other has a hard time reading and writing, alright?"

John watched as Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded, passing his glass back and forth between his hands. Talks like these made them both sort of uncomfortable but it was long overdue and the least John could do for ruining Dean's entire childhood.

"Dad?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"I wish I could have recorded that. I could have sent it in and you could've been in the running to be the next Oprah."

* * *

Sam took a deep breath as he approached Mr. Culler who was working in his garden, not having a clue about how this meeting with his former teacher was going to go down. Sam didn't necessarily have a problem with the guy, other than how he treated Dean...but he never really liked him. When Sam called out Mr. Culler looked up at Sam from his crouched position in confusion.

"Can I...help you?" He asked awkwardly, obviously not understanding what a young adult in a wheelchair was doing at his door.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Culler, my name's Sam..." Sam hesitated for a brief moment. Of course Mr. Culler never heard of the name Winchester, so Sam decided to introduce himself with the last name he was given by his foster family. „Duncan", he added reluctantly. He couldn't help but wince at the sound of his foster family's last name. When he had been back in the orphanage he never had a last name until he was taken in by the Duncan family. At the time he thought it was so cool to finally have a last name, to feel like he belonged somewhere. But soon enough those feelings changed, he knew he didn't belong in that house and the Duncan's weren't family, they hadn't even adopted him. When he saw the teacher's blank expression, he stopped the train of thoughts that was running through his head and hurried to explain: „I was one of your former students."

Mr. Culler narrowed his eyes at Sam, as if trying to decide if he was lying or not. Sam didn't think it should be that hard, how many students in wheelchairs could he have possibly had?

But then the man nodded. „Yeah, I remember. You were in my class back when I taught American history. What can I do for you, Mr. Duncan?"

Sam would have just blown it off, but he really didn't want to be known as a Duncan anymore. Even though this man probably cared less, he felt a need to speak out. "Actually, that's not my name anymore, never really was. I'm Sam Winchester."

Mr. Culler nodded again, looking a bit surprised. "I never knew that foster family of yours, but I heard stuff here and there. Kids didn't usually get adopted from that home, glad to see your luck was different."

Sam was about to argue with the adoption thing, but he really saw no point. He never even really knew Mr. Culler, so it wouldn't matter if he knew the complete truth. "Yeah, I was adopted." Sam lied. "And I moved away with my family. I'm actually with them and I asked if we could stop by my old town to visit. I couldn't help but hear news of your wife. I just wanted to stop by to say I'm sorry and see if you were doing okay."

Mr. Culler sighed and shrugged. "I'm fine, all things considered. There's all this news going around that this Greg guy was in the bar at the time of her death, but I saw him kill her. She was weeding the vegetable patch and I just came around the corner when he strangled her." Tears sprang into his eyes. "I couldn't help her. I was so shocked I couldn't move. When I started yelling it was already too late." Furtively, Mr. Culler wiped his eyes and pulled himself together. "But I'm beginning to wonder if my perceptions were off. I swear it was him but maybe it was someone that just looked similar to him..."

"Mr. Culler, I personally know the Mendel's and I know Greg would never do anything like this to anyone. He would have no reason to." Sam informed the man.

The teacher shook his head and began pulling weeds out of the garden. "It just doesn't make any sense. Me and my wife didn't even know the man."

"She didn't have any problems with him? Maybe she might have worked with him?"

"No, not with this man." Mr. Culler grunted. "And she worked at home."

The way the man said that made Sam stop and think. "So she had problems with someone?"

Mr. Culler turned his head to glare at Sam. "Why does it even matter? She's dead isn't she?"

"Oh, I...I was just thinking that maybe the person she had problems with had something to do with her murder. I'm just trying to help." Sam started to backtrack and began remembering that his old teacher did have a short temper.

"It couldn't possibly be. The person was a young girl, a rich man's daughter. She always used to be a spoiled girl but we never knew her to be mean and violent. She has changed a lot during the last few weeks. Must be puberty or something like that." Mr. Culler grimaced in disgust. "My wife caught her torturing a few kittens. My wife is...was...a big animal lover and this really upset her. She yelled at the kid and threatened her to tell her parents if she didn't stop. And then…" Mr. Cullers voice trailed off.

"Then what?" Sam decided to press for more, not sure how much information Mr. Culler would be willing to give out.

The man sighed and looked at Sam. "She started swearing and threatening my wife and then she said she would kill her." Absent-mindedly he looked over the garden before he directed his gaze on Sam again. "But I'm sure that has nothing to do with my wife being killed. I mean Brooke was upset, but it's not that a fifteen year old girl can just go to this man and ask him to murder my wife for her." He sighed deeply. "Listen kid, I don't even know why I'm telling you this stuff you don't need to know. I need to finish this garden. My wife was working on it and in a way I feel responsible for her death... I was about to mention I wanted to get a divorce...I should have been happy with what I had..." Mr. Culler trailed off, looking at the roses blooming in his garden.

"I'm sorry Mr. Culler. I'll get going now, take care." Sam told him and at the teacher's nod Sam started down the sidewalk, his mind going a mile a minute. Had it even been Greg who had killed Mrs. Mendel? What was up with the mysterious young girl? Could maybe she had been possessed? He should call Dean and ask him to pick him up, let his family know what was going on...

Sam was forced to stop thinking when his phone rang. Sam didn't even look at the number, thinking it to be either Dean or John. But it was Mrs. Mendel. She was ecstatic, telling Sam that Greg had made it home, the police had just kept him a while longer and that everything was okay. She had to go because she was making her husband dinner but she ordered him and his family to come back and visit soon.

Sam let out a breath of relief. He had been worried about Mr. Mendel and was glad that he was fine. But then that nearly threw out Dean's theory of whatever this was being a shape shifter because they never let their victims live to tell what happened to them. They really had to talk to Mr. Mendel. This case was just getting stranger and stranger.

A little boy trudged along the sidewalk and Sam wheeled back a few inches to give him space to pass. The boy flashed him a small smile and Sam smiled back, watching the boy shuffling along. His smile fell when he looked at the phone that he had still in his hands. He should call Dean, telling him to pick him up. But he was reluctant to do so. He had no idea why Dean was in such a bad mood but he didn't want his brother to snap at him again. He had sworn to himself that he would cope with Dean's mood swings as long as his brother stopped smoking, but every now and then Sam just ached to shove a cigarette straight into Dean's face and get over with the crap. He had to admit, though, that Dean had done fairly well. It had been a while that he last had craved for a cigarette. Sam frowned. Maybe Dean's foul mood had other reasons than his smoke deprivation. Maybe his big brother had real problems and Sam just failed to see them.

Sighing, Sam was about to hit speed dial to reach his brother when his attention was diverted. With screeching tires a sport car came to a halt beside the boy and a man in his late twenties blocked the kid's way. The boy backed away but the man grabbed his arm and held him tight. When the boy cried out in pain Sam stuffed away his cell phone and gave the handrims of his wheelchair a hard push. The boy was sobbing in pain and fear by now, but he still tried to wiggle his arm out of the strong grip. He kicked the man's shin but that only earned him a hard slap into the face.

"Hey," Sam shouted, "leave that kid alone." He skidded to a halt, grabbed the man's arm, and yanked the boy free. "Do you feel great now?" he sneered. "It's really heroic to hit and scare a kid." Sam looked up and his blood froze. Thousands of bad memories flooded his brain when he recognized the guy's face. He was older and there was a scar on his cheek that gave him an even meaner look but there was no doubt about who he was. Within an instant Sam blocked out the painful memories and felt his features harden with contempt. "But then again, you always used to hit those who can't defend themselves, don't you, Jack?" Unconsciously, his hands curled into fists and Sam ached to add another scar on the once rather handsome face.

Jack looked at him, bewildered, but then he began to smirk. "Look, who crawled out of his hole," he smirked. "Cripple Sammy is back in the land of the living. I always knew you weren't dead. How are you brother?"

"Don't call me that," Sam snarled. He narrowed his eyes in anger. He was used to people calling him a cripple but there were only two persons in the world who were allowed to call him Sammy and Jack certainly wasn't one of them. "You have exactly one chance to shove off," he hissed. "Leave that kid alone and look for someone your own size to pick on."

Jack laughed out loud. "You really want to tell me what to do, Sammy? And if I don't obey? Are you going to hit me? Geez, I'm so scared."

And then Jack made a mistake. He thought leaning down threateningly over the gimp would intimidate him like it did when they were kids but this time it only earned him a hard fist in his face. With a cry of pain and surprise Jack staggered back, holding a hand to his bloody nose. "Damn," he cursed. "You're so gonna pay for that, you fucking cripple"

"Really?" Sam smiled. He wasn't afraid of Jack anymore. The feeling had something extremely liberating as if all the demons of his past finally left him alone.

Jack was even more aggravated by San's derisive smile. He swung his fist against Sam's head but Sam easily blocked the punch and delivered one himself. Jack was four years older than him and always had more strength than Sam, but those days were long gone. And Jack started to realize it. But still Sam had one big disadvantage. He played fair. And Jack had no intention to do so. He raised his hands in defense and muttered an almost inaudible "yeah, okay, I go". Sam kept a watchful eye on his former foster brother as Jack walked by, but although his reflexes were fast he stood no chance. Jack knew perfectly well how to overthrow a wheelchair; he had brought this skill to perfection in his youth. He turned to the kid that was still sitting on the sidewalk and acting as he would hit him again, he diverted Sam's attention just long enough to grab the frame of the wheelchair. Sam had almost suspected it, but although he reacted fast he couldn't prevent himself from flying headfirst onto the pavement. He skinned his elbows, but barely took the time to register the pain, knowing that Jack would be over him within an instant. He turned around just in time to see Jack lifting his foot. Jack knew that he stood his best chances when he remained standing and he had no problem with crushing Sam's bones with his booted foot. But Sam grabbed his ankle and twisted it around. Jack lost his footing and fell down on top of Sam who greeted him with a fist to his side. With both of them down, Sam easily got the upper hand. He shoved Jack to the side and hauled himself on him before his opponent even had a chance to react. Jack fought him tooth and nail but he stood no chance. Sam now was at least five inches taller than his foster brother and the dead weight of his legs alone trapped Jack effectively. Sam managed to grab Jack's wrists and pinned them down against the pavement, leaning on them with his entire weight. He heard distinct voices from behind and suspected that their little fight had attracted the neighbors. He heard muttered words like wheelchair and disabled and allowed himself a grim smile.

"Get off of me," Jack growled. "You're breaking my wrists."

"I'm awfully sorry, brother," Sam sneered. "You know I can't help it. And you should know that I can't get up."

Jack buckled under him, but Sam stood his ground. Right until a hand grabbed his shoulder and tries to push him away.

"Leave the guy alone," a male voice yelled into his ear. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Attacking a disabled man is scandalous. He can't even defend himself." The grip on his shoulder intensified and Sam was so surprised that he gave into the shove and rolled off of Jack.

Without a second thought Jack leaped to his feet and made a run for his car. Sam stared up to the bewildered face of the man that had hauled him off of Jack. It was a corpulent man in his fifties whose chin almost hit the ground when he looked after Jack who sped away with screeching tires. A woman of his age was crouching down beside the boy and comforted him.

When Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, the man turned to him, confusion still written all over his face. "I'm awfully sorry," he stuttered. "I was under the impression that…"

"That the cripple has to be the one underneath?" Sam finished the sentence for him.

"I guess," the man answered and his face turned red. "What happened here?" He offered Sam a hand, but Sam shook his head.

"Thanks, I'll be fine." With a sigh, Sam looked over to his wheelchair that was lying on its side a few feet away. He hated displaying his disability so openly, but he hated even more to accept help from strangers when he was able to do things himself. While he listened to the boy who was telling how Jack had hit him and Sam came to his rescue, he shoved himself over to his chair and put it back on its wheels. That done, he heaved himself into it and put his feet on the footrest. Grimacing, he noticed the holes in his jeans where his knees had scraped over the pavement. Maybe it was stylish but not with the red edges around the holes. He wheeled over to where the couple still listened to the boy who talked a mile a minute and made Sam look like Superman himself.

"Hey," he said, interrupting the kid's flow of words. "I'm Sam. What's your name?"

"Jason." The kid beamed at Sam. "You beat Jack. That was so cool."

Sam smiled and thanked the couple. "I'll bring him home," he reassured them.

"Okay." The man cast him a shy glance. "Look, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay." A bright smile flashed over Sam's face. "It's nice to be mistaken for the bad guy for a change."

The man allowed himself a reluctant smile and grabbed his wife's arm. Together they went to the other side of the street where a small crowd has gathered to undoubtedly tell them the story of the disabled hero.

Sam watched them with a smile. He felt good. In fact, he felt awesome. The boy was right. He had beaten Jack, for the very first time in his life. Turning around, he grabbed Jason and put him down on his thighs. "Where do you live?" he asked.

Jason pointed ahead. "Down the street."

With the boy on his lap Sam rolled along the sidewalk. "Are you even allowed to be here on your own?"

Jason ducked his head. "Momma told me that I had to stay with Alan until she or Daddy come and get me. But Alan is a stupid little baby. His mum said I could play with his cars, but he started bawling when I took them."

"So you decided you wouldn't stay there any longer?"

"Yeah, I'm almost five years old, y'know? I don't need anyone to bring me home."

"But Jack would have never dared to hit you if there was an adult with you."

"Maybe. But Jack is an asshole." Jason shrugged apologetically when he saw Sam's face. "Momma tells me all the time I'm not allowed to say these words but it's what Dad says. Jack is an asshole."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You're absolutely right. What did he want from you by the way?"

"He always comes and wants money. He says Daddy owes it to him because he's his brother."

Sam forgot to push forward and the wheelchair came to a halt. "What's your dad's name?" he enquired.

"Alex. He's not Jack's real brother, y'know. It's called foster brother, and it's because my daddy had no real parents."

"I know. Jack was my foster brother, too."

"Your's too?" Jason gaped at him. "Does it mean you're my daddy's brother?"

"Guess so."

"Wow. That's so cool." Jason started babbling, but Sam only listened with half an ear. With mixed feelings he resumed a steady pace. So this was Alex' son. He seemed to be doomed to run into all the acquaintances of his former life. He didn't know if he wanted to meet Alex. Sure thing, Cara had told him that he had changed, but Sam wasn't so sure. He tried to remember Alex. Jack always had him under his thumb and told him what to do, but Alex never seemed very reluctant to follow his lead. When Jack wasn't at home Alex left Sam alone but he never ever had helped him or took his side.

Sam startled when Jason hopped off his lap. "Do you want to come in? Daddy's already at home. That's his car." His thumb pointed to an old pick-up in the driveway.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry pal, not today. I have to go. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Will do. Bye Sam." Jason ran into the house.

Sam smiled when the boy disappeared. He wasn't keen on meeting Alex. At first he had to find out if he still held any grudges against his former foster brother and even if Alex had changed, Sam was pretty sure he still did.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey everyone! Sorry for such a long delay. So many things have been going on in my life right now. I'd rather not talk about them, and just post the story. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's shorter, but I wanted to get something up for everyone to read. Thank you so much for your reviews and patience! And as always thanks to Gabi for betaing this and helping me feel better when so many things were going wrong for me. If it wasn't for her, this story would never get done! lol_

* * *

Sam only made it halfway down the block when he heard someone calling his name. He turned around and saw a man around his age sprinting towards him with a look of shock on his face. It was Alex; he looked nearly exactly the same as Sam remembered him, just a few years older.

Alex came to a halt in front of Sam, panting and Sam simply looked up at him and waited. He wasn't sure what Alex wanted with him. Sam brought his son back home and there was nothing left to be said. Cara told him that Alex had changed, but he wasn't so sure of that. His experiences told him to be careful.

"Sam? My god, it's really you!" Alex smiled, looking slightly awkward and Sam wheeled back a little bit. He knew he could take on Alex in a heartbeat, but he really wanted nothing to do with the man. He had contributed to making Sam's childhood close to a living Hell.

Alex saw Sam's weariness and guilt flooded his features. "I...I can't believe you're alive. I...God I'm so sorry. That day when me and Jack left you outside...I've been living in guilt every day since then. Thinking that you were dead and I caused it by not coming back to bring you inside..."

"Well..." Sam said, rolling his eyes slightly. "I guess you can live in peace now that you know I'm alive and well." He went to turn around again when Alex laid a hand on his shoulder.

"No...I really am so sorry." Alex said and this time, it looked like the man was close to tears. "Jack...that kid had me going down the wrong path. I didn't have any family so I sort of looked up to him and followed what he did. I...it took me until this kid threatened us to realize just how bad of an influence Jack had been and how me acting careless could cost someone their life. The kid had mentioned that he'd rescued you…but since I never saw you again I assumed the worst. I felt like the worst person on the planet."

"Yeah, and that kid would be my brother." Sam told him, finding it hard to keep the grin off his face. Good ol' Dean even stopped a nearly-criminal Alex from going the wrong way in life.

Alex seemed confused but to Sam's relief brushed it off. "I met a girl after that and obviously as you saw...we had a kid. It's been though but I've changed. I've become a good father and husband. I know what I did back then can never be taken back but I want to let you know that I truly am sorry."

Sam could continue holding in all his anger and resentment at Alex if he wanted. It might even be expected for someone in his position to do so. He looked at his former foster brother and a thousand thoughts crossed his mind. He remembered all the cruel words Alex said to him, he remembered everything Alex had done to him. Alex hurt him in so many ways… but Sam couldn't deny that the man had changed. He was sincere about his apology and Sam couldn't find it in his heart to stay angry and deny the man his apology.

"I forgive you." Sam told him, and it was like a weight had been lifted off of Alex's shoulders.

"Thank you. And thank you for bringing my son home. He told me that you 'beat up' Jack. That's just...Sam you really are an amazing person. You didn't deserve any of the crap you went through growing up. You do look a lot happier, I hope your life really is better now."

Sam found himself smiling. "It was no problem. The guy is more of a wuss then he lets on, doesn't even know proper fighting skills. And I am very happy...I have my family now and life is just about perfect."

"I'm glad." Alex nodded. Have you moved back into town?"

"Nah, I'm just stopping by to catch up with a few people. My brother will pick me up to bring me back to our motel room."

"I could give you a ride."

Sam looked at him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to spend more time with Alex, but on the other hand, he wasn't sure either if he wanted to spend time with Dean right now. Maybe the idea wasn't that bad.

"I don't want to keep you if you're busy."

"You wouldn't be. I'd really like to do it. And I certainly want to hear more about this brother of yours. Just wait a minute, I'm going to fetch my car."

* * *

At the bar Dean and John were listening into some news. The body of a local teenage girl had just been found in an alley. The body had been dead for up to two weeks but the girl had just been spotted yesterday.

John was completely intrigued by the conversation, asking questions to try to see if he could narrow down what this thing could be. Dean listened as his father went through questions, trying to seem like a scared and confused passer-by. Dean thought of joining the conversation when his cell phone rang. Dean flipped it open.

"Hi Sammy. Time to pick you up?"

"No," he heard his brother say. "I'm already back in the motel." Sam hesitated for a moment. "An old friend gave me a ride."

"Okay, then," Dean said. "See you soon." He flipped the phone shut and turned to John. "Sam's already home," he informed him in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the conversation.

Just then the young female bartender walked past Dean, rolling her eyes at the men talking. Dean smirked at her and she winked back in response. Dean took that as a hint and he snuck away from his father.

"Hey there." Dean smiled at the woman. He hadn't really been concentrating on girls lately with his cravings making him irritable. But he was finally at the point where he felt pretty darn good all day long so Dean figured it was about time to flirt.

"Hey yourself." The woman, around Sam's age, giggled and twisted a strand of hair around her index finger, a sure sign that she was interested. It was true that Dean preferred brunettes and someone a bit closer to his age but he'd take what he could get.

"Conversation's pretty boring over there, isn't it?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah." She pouted. "I was kinda hoping you'd want to do something more...interesting..." She smiled as she ran a hand down the base of Dean's neck, teasing him.

But before Dean could make his next move the door to the bar slammed open along with some very loud curse words being spewed about. The girl pulled her hand away with a sigh.

"This guy's a real asshole and he'll be here for a while, ordering a ton of drinks. Here..." She pulled out her pen and wrote her number on Dean's palm. "I'm off work tomorrow night, name's Amy. You going to be free?"

"Dean." He grinned wide. "And you betcha."

"Can't wait...Dean." Amy winked and gave Dean a teasing peck on the lips before walking back to serve the furious man sitting at the bar. Dean walked back to his father, causing John to raise his eyebrows at his eldest son.

"You having fun?" John asked, and Dean could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

Dean blushed. "Shut up, Dad." He growled and grabbed a handful of the onion rings he ordered earlier. 'What did you find out about the girl?"

John was cut off of whatever he was about to say when the furious man-Jack-turned to another guy sitting at the bar.

"You won't believe the shit I went through today!" He growled. The other man he was neither talking to just nodded his head, not seeming the least bit interested but Jack apparently didn't notice nor care. "This fuckin' cripple kid I used to pick on years ago just decided to pick a fight with me, out of the blue!"

As soon as those words were spoken Dean was seeing red. He was so furious he almost didn't catch what the other man said.

"Why are you so mad then?" He chuckled to Jack, looking at his black eye. "He managed to beat you up, didn't he?"

Jack's face turned red and Dean managed to relax a tiny bit. Sam beat the crap out of this guy, he smirked to himself. _Thatta boy Sammy. _Dean looked at the black eye and bruises littering the man's face when it finally hit him who this guy was.

Jack was the name of one of the stupid foster kids that beat Sam up. This was the kid that left Sam out to die, the one that Dean threw against a wall and threatened and the one who shot Dean himself in the gas station so many years ago.

Dean sprung up, and if it wasn't for his father grabbing a hold of his shirt, Jack would have been a bloody mess on the ground.

"No Dean." John whispered. His face was set in a grim line, and he obviously came to the same conclusion Dean just did. "Follow my lead."

John waited until Jack got bored and sauntered over to a lonely table. He then got up and walked over to Jack, with Dean following him with clenched fists. The oldest Winchester walked up right next to Jack and leaned against the table.

"So I heard that story you were telling your friend." He started. "It was quite the story, why would some disabled kid start fighting with you?"

"It's none of your business." Jack seethed, drowning his beer.

"Oh, but I think it is our business. And I don't believe for one second that he was the one that started the fight." John added on.

"What the hell does it matter?" Jack growled, his face growing red. "The stupid fucking kid wouldn't leave me alone so I grabbed him and threw him to the ground!"

And this time John couldn't hold Dean back as he grabbed Jack and threw him up against the wall.

"Let me go! Who the fuck do you think you are?" Jack yelled, looking a bit frightened.

"I'll tell you who I am. I'm _'that stupid cripple's'_ older brother you jackass!" Dean spat, landing a punch to the side of Jack's face. "Does this feel familiar, huh? Think back eight years ago. Remember that kid that tried to teach you a lesson?"

Jack seemed confused at first as he stared at Dean's face. Then something clicked. Fear overcame his face but it was quickly replaced be an evil sneer.

"Ha, you're the idiot I shot. You're still alive too?"

Dean pushed Jack harder against the wall, making him grunt in pain. "Man, if I still smoked I'd press another cigarette against your skin, remember what that feels like, Jack? And of course I'm still alive! You think your badly aimed bullet could kill me? It takes a lot more than that." Dean could feel himself getting out of control; he needed to walk away before he did something he would regret later. "If you so much come within a hundred feet of my little brother you'll be wishing you weren't alive." And with that he gave Jack one last shove and walked out of the bar.

At Dean's retreat Jack tried to escape but John grabbed him this time and held him by the throat. There was a clicking noise and soon the barrel of a gun was pressed under Jack's chin.

"You'd be lucky if you ran into Dean. He'd go easy on you. Me...not so much. If you ever touch either of my boys again, I _will_ find you and I _will_ kill you." John put on his best furious-hunter face and Jack seemed to get it right away. "Understand?"

John nodded quickly as John put his gun away and started walking towards the door.

"Oh yeah." John turned around, patting the gun in his pocket. "And just so you know, I know exactly where to aim. I won't miss."

* * *

**(While Dean and John are at the bar)**

When Alex and Sam arrived at the motel Sam couldn't help but laugh as his former foster-brother attempted to set up Sam's wheelchair for him. Sam let Alex try a few more times before finally butting in and telling Alex he could do it. Sam knew that Alex used to know how to work his wheelchair after messing with it so much, but he probably forgot over the years. While it was usually Dean's 'job' to set up Sam's chair for him whenever he exited a car, Sam was fully capable of doing it himself. He opened to the door and pushed his legs out so he faced outside. Alex handed him the chair and in one fluid motion Sam had the wheelchair set up and lowered himself into it. Alex looked impressed and also guilty, probably remembering all the times he kept Sam's chair out of reach. As he was walking back to the driver's side, Alex invited Sam to stop by sometime before he left the town. Sam wasn't sure if he would feel comfortable about that but he told Alex he'd try.

Finally back inside the motel room, Sam let out a groan and rubbed at his eyes. He was completely exhausted but he knew he still had work to do. First thing he decided to do was to call Dean and let him know he didn't need a ride home. Maybe Dean would stay out later then...Sam really didn't want to deal with Dean's grumpy attitude. He could only hope that the time in the bar and a beer had raised his brother's mood a bit."

His hopes seemed like they might be true because when Sam called Dean seemed much happier. Sam felt himself relaxing because of it, his own feelings tended to reflect those of his brother. When Dean was grouchy it put Sam in a bad mood and when Dean was cheerful, Sam couldn't help but be happy; his brother just had that sort of effect on him.

Even though Dean might be feeling better, his brother probably wouldn't want to come home to help Sam with his exercises so Sam figured he should do some on his own tonight. He lowered himself onto the floor and laid down, starting to do some sit-ups. After a while he pushed himself onto his stomach and did some pushups.

When he was finished all Sam wanted to do was fall asleep, but now he was all sweaty so a shower was in order. Lifting himself onto the seat bolted down in the shower, Sam let his mind wander. His daily exercises and maneuvering out of his chair came easily to Sam but after a while, it even exhausted him. Sam wondered what it was like for Dean and John and everyone else who could walk. Were daily things so much easier for them? They didn't have to drag around their limp legs while getting into the shower or into bed or into a car. Simple little things like this Sam often thought about and he bet other people never spared those details a second thought. When he was a kid, Sam had often wondered how the floor would feel against his feet and if the feeling was the same as it was to his hands. Sam smiled when he remembered how he sometimes crept over the floor, anxious to feel with his hands what he couldn't feel with his feet and legs.

Sam didn't realize how long he'd been pondering until he felt the water turning cold. He placed the hand-held shower spray he used back on the rack and couldn't help as he looked up at the spray that was up high, the one that Dean and John would use. So many things were different for them, things that Sam usually didn't think about. Maybe that was the reason so many people acted awkward around him. Not because he was in a wheelchair, but because he had different needs, different ways of doing things and they didn't want to mess anything up because they didn't understand.

Sam pulled on his boxers and a t-shirt he brought into the bathroom. He was able to pull on his shorts quick, but that didn't mean it didn't feel like a hassle. He watched Dean pull on pants and how easily and fluidly he was able to do it. Sam never had such luck, usually having to lie down on the bed to pull his pants on. And jeans...they were ten times worse. It was difficult to pull up so much material and Sam actually bought pant sizes that were too big on him just because they were a lot easier to get on.

Really, if Sam could just have one day, only one day to be able to walk, to see what it was like... That was all he wanted. Not some magical cure, just a day so he could find out all the answers to his questions. SO he could do the things he had always missed out on. To feel what it was like to kick a soccer ball, to run through a field, to climb a ladder, to jump, to blend in with a crowd, to make love...

Sam shook his head, sometimes things got to him like this and he needed to stop because it would just lead to him being in a bad mood. He would never be able to do those things and he just needed to face the facts. Sighing, Sam decided to distract himself so he made himself a sandwich, this time very aware of the lowered counter he was preparing it on and wheeled himself over to the table and turned on his laptop.

He'd find information on the girl Mr. Culler had told him about. Research was always a good distraction.

* * *

When Dean and John made it back to the motel Dean had to work hard to hold back his laughter at the sight in front of him.

Sam was sitting in his chair next to the little dining table. His laptop was open and his head was resting on the keyboard. Sam's right hand rested on the table holding a half eaten sandwich. He was fast asleep.

John shook his head with a smile on his face and went to wake Sam but Dean held him back. He winked at his father silently letting him know _I got this._

Seeing that Sam had fallen asleep while at his computer told Dean that his little brother had been very exhausted and would be in a deep sleep. Dean walked over to Sam, taking a bite from the unfinished sandwich before he carefully grabbed Sam's shoulders and pulled his torso back so he was leaning against his chair. Sam only let out a little moan so Dean proceeded with his next step. He placed one arm under Sam's knees and the other behind his back, easily picking up his brother from many years of practice. If anyone else had attempted to pick Sam up while he was sleeping he would have woken up at once. But since it was Dean, Sam didn't stir. Not only because Dean was extremely gentle and careful with his brother but also because deep down, even though Sam was sleeping he knew it was his brother's hands holding him. That sense of comfort and familiarity alone allowed Sam to continue sleeping.

Dean could almost feel his father's smile as he walked over to the bed and placed his giant brother on the mattress. It wasn't until Dean placed the covers over Sam's chest that he started to mumble and shift a bit. It was almost cute, if Dean dared say so.

Dean leaned over his brother with a quiet laugh. "Awe, Sammy. How about a good night kiss?"

Before Dean could get any closer to him to further his joke Sam spoke, his eyes still shut. "Don't you even dare." He grumbled, hardly understandable as he snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Dean laughed, nearly all of his anger from earlier in the day forgotten as he patted Sam's shoulder.

"Goodnight Sammy."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone! I was actually going to put a lot more into this chapter but then this part I wrote turned out much longer than I thought. So now it will be broken down into two chapters which is good for you because you don't have to wait for me to write more lol. The majority is Sam and Dean doing some much needed talking, so I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks so much for your continued support :)_

* * *

The next morning Sam woke up to his father already dressed in his FBI uniform. He looked to his side to see that Dean was still fast asleep next to him, snoring softly.

"Dad?" Sam grunted and pulled himself up so he was leaning against the headboard. "What are you doing?"

John jumped slightly and turned around. "Oh, I didn't know you were awake Sammy."

Dean moaned and buried his head under his pillow at the noise. Sam tried not to laugh as he rubbed at his eyes. "I just woke up. What's with the suit?"

"Well, when I and Dean were at the bar yesterday we found out some news on what could possibly be another victim. Turns out there was this teenage girl that was found dead, her body weeks old when she was just spotted the other day. I thought I'd have a talk with the police and then take a peek at the corpse in the morgue."

"Whoa." Sam shuddered; he couldn't imagine what it must have been like for the girl's parents. One day your child is there then the next she's a rotted body. The things people go through because of the supernatural…

"I was thinking that maybe she's somehow connected to Greg or your teacher's wife or something." John pointed out and then at the mention of his former teacher, Sam remembered something.

"Hey…wait a second…this girl…was she acting not like she normally did?"

John furrowed his brow. "I don't know Sam, that's something I hope I can find out."

"Because I'm almost positive she's related to this case. When I talked to Mr. Culler yesterday he said his wife had a run in with a rich teenage girl. She was abusing animals or something and Mrs. Culler yelled at her and the girl apparently really flipped out to the point where she was really frightened. I think Mr. Culler believed this girl somehow played a part in his wife's death."

John took in this new information. "Wow, that's interesting. So we have Greg who apparently killed a woman but was also at a bar with his friends and now a girl who was acting strange and then her weeks-old body was found."

"Sounds like whatever is doing this is getting sloppy. You think it would clean up after itself incase of hunters."

"Or it just doesn't care. There's not that many hunters out there Sammy, most monsters just do what they want because they can, no assuming that there might be a hunter around that will catch it in time. I might have gone with Dean's shapeshifter idea, but they're usually not this stupid."

"Let's not start ruling anything out or jumping to conclusions until we know for sure. Right now, anything is possible. I better get going now. You boys call me if you find anything else, that is if your brother ever decides to get his lazy ass out of bed." John smiled, walking towards the door.

The giant mound of crinkled blankets and sheets that was Dean groaned. "I heard that."

* * *

Both brothers had decided that they'd talk with Greg today to see if maybe he had any new information. But first they were going to eat from the free breakfast provided by the motel. Dean had a shit-splitting grin once they entered the lobby.

"Man, look at all this! Pancakes, Danish, muffins, donuts, what's this…oh god they have cinnamon rolls! And they even have bacon…"

Sam shook his head, eyeing all the junk on the table. He placed his plate in his lap and carefully filled it with fruit and a muffin. He filled a paper bowl with cereal and grabbed two small cartons of milk. One to drink and the other to fill his bowl with when he got back to the table. If he dared to fill it before, he would have milk-drenched pants.

When they made it back to the table, Sam was shocked to see Dean with three full plates. He nearly said something about the amount of junk his brother was consuming but he held his tongue. It wasn't in his place to say anything. And it would either make Dean upset or he'd go off on how he had to try one of _everything_.

"You know…" Dean said thoughtfully as he bit into his Danish. "This isn't half bad, it's actually pretty freakin' good."

Sam bit into his muffin, surprised to see that Dean was right. He nodded his approval.

"So…" Dean started in-between bites. "Did the dining table make for a comfortable bed?"

Sam stared at Dean like he was crazy. Dean and his random questions…. "Dude, what the hell are you talking about?"

"The table man, you fell asleep drooling on it with your laptop wide open. Every time you open that thing is it for research? If you used it for what I do, there's no way you'd be falling asleep then." Dean grinned devilishly.

"Dean!" Sam gasped, looking around to see if anyone had heard his obnoxious brother but no one was around them. "You're a perverted freak!"

Dean shook his head as he started on his muffin. "No, I'm a man Sammy. Something that you wouldn't know how to act."

Sam pouted. "You're the worst brother in the world. I hope you know that."

"What are you talking about? I carried your heavy ass to bed last night. I could have easily made you wake up and put yourself to bed. But because I am such a thoughtful and kind big brother, I didn't."

Sam's expression grew soft. "Wait, you carried me to bed?"

Dean's face grew red and he looked down. "Yeah...I didn't drop you either." Dean said the last part quietly and his words made Sam's heart clench. It was like Dean was still trying to gain Sam's trust that he wouldn't drop him again or let him down….Dean didn't realize that he had Sam's trust from day one.

"Dean, I don't care that you picked me up. I trust you man." Sam told him, unsure of where Dean's feelings were coming from. Did Dean think that Sam had a fear of Dean picking him up since he was dropped as a baby? That he had trust issues after that? Maybe some people would but Sam didn't see the point. Dean had been four years old then and he had been burdened with a task too difficult for him. He never held Dean responsible for that. If anyone would be responsible to blame it would have been John for placing such a big responsibility on his young son's shoulders. But when someone's world was literally burning down around them, you tend to not think straight.

Dean just blushed some more, attempting to change the subject. "Uhm...you okay though? It's not like you to fall asleep like that. Something bothering you?"

Shit. Sam hated it when Dean knew things just from his observations. Despite anything Dean might say, he was an excellent observer, especially when it came to his younger brother. Dean was right, falling asleep at the table was something very un-Sam like. Not only was it extremely uncomfortable but it was not good for Sam to fall sleep in his wheelchair because it could create pressure spots and sores on his legs, butt and back from sitting so long. Which was why it was pretty important for Sam to kind of get into bed early everyday, even if he wasn't ready to fall asleep it was best for him to lie down in bed and stretch his legs out.

Dean knew Sam was good at always doing that. And anyway, Sam wasn't one to fall asleep in the middle of doing something, that was Dean's job. All this must have given him the conclusion that 'Something's bothering Sammy'.

"No Dean, I'm fine." Sam smiled as if to add emphasis. "I just had a lot on my mind last night, that's all." And it was true. Sam once in a great while might go into a little funk where he just lets his mind wander a little too much. But it was only because he had a lot of time alone to think last night and instead of going over memories from his childhood that the town was bringing back, Sam had focused on thinking of his disability.

Dean frowned a bit. He knew exactly what was going on because of the times Sam felt down in the past. "Hey, later on today do you think you'd want to go to this rehab center? I looked it up online last night and there's one in Topeka...it's only about a thirty minute drive Dad said." Dean smiled then. "Maybe we can finally get you up on those crutches."

The idea that once made Sam roll his eyes now made him grin. Actually being able to stand and move around, even if it wasn't walking, was something that sounded amazing. "I'd like that." He told his brother.

"Annnndd..." Dean went on, now also grinning. "I feel like going bowling, how's that sound after our trip to the rehab center?"

Just like that, it was as if all Sam's worries from yesterday vanished. "Sounds awesome." Bowling was really the only sport he could 'do' normally and it was always nice to go to a bowling alley and feel like he fit in, even if people did stare in curiosity.

They at in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dean scarfed down his last piece of his enormous breakfast.

"Geeze." Dean wheezed, an expression of discomfort on his face. Sam watched as he placed a hand on his slightly rounded stomach and tugged at his jeans. Sam tried to tell himself not to get worried about his brother. So what if he was gaining some weight? Rather have him eating more as a habit than smoking and anyway, Dean wouldn't let it get out of hand.

"Dude, why don't you just wear a pair of my jeans instead? They're roomier." Sam suggested in a way to try to make Dean feel better. And it was true that Sam's pants were bigger so they were easier to get on and didn't put too much friction on his legs.

Sam was confused though when Dean blushed and his eyes fell to his lap in embarrassment. "Uhm...they...these are your pants. Been wearing them for a little while now."

Oh. Sam didn't know what to say. Then he saw Dean blink and look away, staring intently at the wall and...yep, there was fricken' tears in his brother's eyes and that's when Sam decided to just screw it and comfort his brother. Dean never really cried but he would get teary-eyed now and then, but only very rarely. Sam thought back to yesterday and how Dean had been beating himself up about his intelligence. They'd both been dodging around both Dean's weight and his self confidence issue for quite a while now and it was time for them both to man up and just talk.

"Dean." Sam gathered up all his courage. They weren't the sharing and caring type all that much, but they were brothers. And when his brother was hurting Sam would do anything to stop it.

Dean looked up at Sam only for a second then looked right back down, tugging on his shirt.

At this point Sam threw all caution to the wind and backed up from his spot at the table and wheeled right next to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dean, look at me."

Dean never really could deny Sam, so while he looked defeated and sad, he still looked up at his brother. "What?" He croaked out.

"First of all." Sam offered an encouraging smile. "Go out and buy some new clothes man."

Dean scrunched up his face, looking offended. "What? I..."

"No." Sam was quick to interrupt. "Let me finish. Dean, you're gaining weight. Simple as that. And there's nothing wrong with it."

"Wow." Dean shook his head. "Way to be blunt about it and tell your brother he's a fat ass."

"Dean!" Sam smacked his brother's shoulder. "Just shut up for one second, will ya? You're not a fat-ass Dean, god you're far from it. You have some extra meat on your bones, you have a belly, big freaking deal. You stopped your ten year smoking habit and you're eating more to make up for that loss. You're not an actor, model or athlete you're a real person and you look like one."

"I just..." Dean looked uncomfortable. "It's not just the fact that I'm eating to compensate for smoking. It's...I don't know...now that I've stopped everything tastes so freaking good. You have no idea Sammy. I think I smoked so much that I wasn't even getting the full flavor of the food because I was constantly tasting smoke. Now every time I eat something it's like I'm tasting it for the first time. I know it sounds stupid but..."

"Dean, it's okay!" Sam found himself laughing. He never thought of it that way but what Dean was saying was very true. "I completely understand. You have nothing to worry about, you're an active guy. And I know the girls are still all over you, so you really have no reason to be worrying about your weight at all."

Dean finally smiled a bit. "Well I was going to meet up with the girl from the bar last night..."

"See! And I bet Mrs. Mendel will make sure to bring her niece as promised and she'll go crazy over you as well." And then, just to kill two birds with one stone Sam continued. "Speaking of Mrs. Mendel...I saw how you got at her house Dean. No one was putting you down."

Dean's smile vanished as he grumbled. "I never said anyone was putting me down."

"No, but you were acting like and you were putting yourself down. Dean, just because you didn't do so well in school doesn't mean shit about your intelligence."

Dean scoffed. "Oh really now?"

Sam shook his head, wondering how he would be able to get his point across. "Dean, intelligence isn't just about book smarts which you can't even judge yourself on because you have severe dyslexia. You're an extremely smart guy; you just can't comprehend words and numbers like most people."

"Then what makes me oh so smart, as you're saying. Really, I'd like you to come up with one real and valid reason."

Okay now Dean was really going to get it. "Alright. First off, you're extremely well spoken; an unintelligent person would never be able to talk like you do. You know the inside and outs of a car like no other. Seriously Dean, do you even realize how hard it is for most people to know all those parts and what they do and where they are? That takes skill and smarts, and you're excellent at it. And you have great common sense, I mean we wouldn't even be together if it wasn't for you and well..."

Sam hesitated over what he was about to say next. It was something he assumed Dean knew without Sam telling him but right now Dean needed it. "Dean there's not a lot of people that would stick by their crippled brother through thick and thin like you. Most big brothers aren't like that. But you never once made me feel like I was a burden even though I know I can be one sometimes. It says a lot about the person you are. Most people would seriously push me aside when the going gets tough but you're always there. I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm your brother and I care about you, I don't want you to get upset over stupid crap. The only person's opinion that should matter to you is mine, and really I have the most annoying, wacky, weird but awesome big brother." Sam finished in a small voice.

Sam watched Dean swallow the lump in his throat. He knew what he said wouldn't make Dean fully get over his issues but he seriously thought it was a great step forward. Dean now knew that Sam had realized his problems and wasn't judging him on them or treating him any differently.

Dean reached over squeezed Sam's shoulder tightly and gave him a sincere look. That was all that needed to be 'said'.

"So...you think we could stop at a store and pick up some new clothes?" Dean asked with an awkward chuckle.

"Since when does the mighty Dean Winchester ask me if we can do something? Where's your normal big brother authority?"

"Fine." Dean grinned. "We're going to stop at the store after this so I can pick up some new clothes, gimp."

"That's the big brother I know and love, jerk."


	8. Chapter 8

_So sorry for the long delay, I really haven't had the greatest last couple of months :( But good news that Supernatural is back on which does get me more inspired to write and I have holiday breaks coming up in school as well. I want to thank my beta Gabi for not getting angry when I was taking forever and for helping me write simple parts that for some reason I couldn't think of how to write. :)_

_Well the story last left off where Sam had a talk with Dean to help boost his confidence at breakfast. And afterward they were going to go to the rehab center after doing a few things first. This chapter picks up at the center. Enjoy, and I'm so sorry for the wait but my mind has been all over the place lately :(_

* * *

The rehab center in Topeka was a larger one than Sam was used to. Once inside they were greeted by a friendly receptionist who signed them up for a walk-in appointment and ten minutes later a female trainer named Nicole led them into a massive gym.

"So Sam." Nicole started. "How long have you been paralyzed and can you tell me a little about the exercising you do?"

"Well, I've been paralyzed since I was 6 months old." Sam told her, he felt relieved when Dean didn't seem to get upset over the mention like he usually does. "This wheelchair is all I've ever known but I'm pretty tough, just ask him." He pointed his thumb over at Dean. "I've beat his ass quite a few times."

"That's only because I let you." Dean lied with a wink. "Yeah, you wouldn't want to get on Sam's bad side."

Nicole laughed. "I wouldn't dare."

Sam smiled up at her. "Anyway, I do most of my exercises at home, all the basics really and Dean helps me with my legs to keep them healthy. I try to go to these rehab gyms when I get the chance but it's hard because we move around a lot. So I really don't get that much time on the equipment."

"For someone as capable as you seem, I don't think you'd need the help of the equipment all that much. But it is good that you're using the rehab centers when you can. I there any goal you're working up to?" Nicole asked and stopped when they reached their destination at the right part of the gym.

"He wants to be able to get up on crutches." Dean answered for him. He knew Sam wasn't all that adamant about the idea but he was going to push it. He wanted to be sure Sam got the chance to try because Dean had a feeling his little brother would end up loving it.

Nicole raised an eyebrow at Dean with a little understanding smirk. "That's nice, but I want to know what Sam thinks."

Dean had to fight at the opportunity to roll his eyes. It was so nice for these people to actually address Sam as a person, and want to talk to him instead of talking through Dean like many people would. But now since she asked Sam directly, Sam would just tell her how he doesn't want to try the crutches and she wouldn't push it.

"He's right." Sam nodded, causing Dean's jaw to drop. "My legs had been really weak when I was younger but we've been working on them the past years. If they're strong enough for me to stand on for long periods of time I would really like to try them out, it would be neat."

The trainer noticed Dean's reaction and gave Sam a questioning glance, asking him without words if he was just saying this for Dean's benefit. Sam just gave her his truthful innocent smile and she nodded.

"Alright, we'll assess you and see if you're ready. You can change in the fitting rooms over there."

* * *

The rehab fitting rooms were a blessing. Not many places were suited for people in a wheelchair, not to mention a full grown 6'4" young adult in a wheelchair and most public places Sam had a hard time wheeling through isles and fitting into small and tight areas. The fitting room was big enough to fit in five wheelchairs and not only that but the whole gym was set up with equipment placed far away from each other. Of course it was expected and necessary for a place like this, but Sam couldn't help but appreciate the little things.

Dean closed the door to the room; there was no sense in getting separate rooms, especially since they kept all the clothes in one duffle.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked, his face still set in shock.

Sam grinned and asked the stupid question. "What?"

"You know! Why did you lie to the trainer? What is the sense in that?"

"I didn't."

"Wh...what?" Dean backtracked, looking at Sam like he was trying to figure out a secret message.

Sam gave Dean a sly look. "I told her I wanted to try the crutches and I do. Hurry up and give me my clothes." He mentioned to the duffle Dean was still carrying on his shoulder.

Dean blinked a few times before setting the duffle on one of the special benches in the room and opening it up. Sam transferred himself onto another one with the help of the bars placed onto the wall, even with his level of independence; he had to admit it made for a much smoother transfer.

"I thought you always said you weren't up for the crutches. Even a few years ago when I brought it up again, you turned it down." Dean grabbed Sam's workout clothes and tossed them to him.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, it came to me rather recently but I thought I'd like to try them. I've had a few experiences lately where I've been so called standing. Like because of the ghost at Jess's place and in the pool when you guys helped me. I guess it excited me. And...I don't know it is a way of gaining some more independence, it would be pretty silly of me not to at least try."

Dean gave Sam a thoughtful look, still looking a bit confused. "Yeah..." Was all he could think of saying.

"And..." Sam pointed out as he changed his shirt. "Before I was still growing and my legs were weak. I'm pretty confident I'm not going to get any taller, so if I got crutches, I wouldn't have to keep getting new ones. And my body is fully matured. Remember how my legs would start looking better, only for me to grow some more for them to look skinny again? Well we've got my legs worked up nicely now. I think they feel strong enough..." Sam trailed out, grabbing one leg with his hands and trying to judge the amount of muscle on them.

Dean walked over and knelt down, pushing Sam's hands away and feeling the leg himself. "You're right you know. Not only do they look a helluva lot better but they don't feel nearly as scrawny as they did in your teen years. They look good Sam, they do. And I want this for you. You know I want this so bad, I just want to make sure you're doing this for yourself and not because of what big brother wants."

Sam threw his button-up shirt at Dean, letting it smack him right in the face. "Dean, I had no problem resisting you all those years when I didn't want it, what makes you think I wouldn't this time?" He laughed. "I guess I'm just a lot more mature now and came to realize some things. I'm not a whiny kid who thinks he's too good for them anymore. I just...grew up about it."

Dean finally smiled before stepping away. "Yeah you grew up for sure, you Sasquatch. I'll pray to God that you don't grow anymore or I might die from embarrassment of being shorter than my little brother."

Sam snorted playfully as he took off his jeans. "Not that anyone really can notice with me all the way down here."

"Oh come on, people can tell that you're tall, look at your legs!"

"I'd be lucky if a fifth grader was shorter than me."

"You're just under five feet sitting in this chair. What fifth grader is five feet tall?" Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam cocked his head to the side. "I was."

"Dude you just totally blew your own argument!" Dean laughed. "You're basically saying you judge your height on your wheelchair and then you say you were five feet without it in fifth grade."

"Shut up, you're just jealous that I can make fun of myself so easily, you wish you had my skills."

Dean scowled. "I do not. Anyway, five feet at 10? You really are some kind of mutated alien."

"Again, you're jealous because you were five foot in 9th grade. Don't try to lie Dean, I've seen the pictures." Sam smirked evilly while Dean gaped like a fish out of water. He finished pulling his athletic shorts over his boxers and looked back at his brother. "Alright, I'll stop. But only because I'm such a great little brother, now hurry and get dressed man."

Dean made a smart decision and decided not to try and continue on their little banter and instead pulled his own clothes out of the duffle. Dean never needed to change but he always did, helping Sam with all the exercises and even trying some for himself. It wasn't something that was seen much by family members in any rehab center Sam went to and it went to show him just what a special person Dean was. He never once hesitated over the fact or worried that he might look strange but always joined Sam with a confidence and a protectiveness that Sam held dear. Sam always knew he had the world's best big brother, but things like this that Dean did nearly made him a god in Sam's eyes.

Dean took out his clothes which were freshly folded from their earlier trip to the Wal-Mart they went to from Sam's promise to buy Dean clothes that actually fit him. Dean had got an entirely new wardrobe and despite his protests that he wouldn't find the right styles just because his clothing size went a few sizes up, Dean found a lot of stuff he liked. The grungy looking AC/DC t-shirt and the new jeans with the worn-look style stopped Dean's grumbling entirely and even made him forget that he was buying bigger sizes. Changing into his new workout clothes now, Dean hesitated for a moment taking off his shirt in front of Sam. He paused, swallowed and put a hand on his belly and Sam saw him start to blush.

Sam instantly felt bad but also wanted to roll his eyes at the same time. They were brothers for goodness sake and it wasn't like Sam hadn't seen Dean with his shirt off with the new weight added on. But it _was_ the first time after Sam had brought the weight to Dean's attention so he needed to play this light and let Dean know that _Dude, it's okay. _

So Sam got back into his wheelchair and rammed it gently into Dean's legs, causing Dean to jump.

"Hurry the hell up man, an old lady would move faster than you." Sam joked and felt relieved when Dean smiled and threw off his shirt then without much as a second thought. He changed quickly and Sam had to admit that Dean looked good. It was still obvious that he had gained weight but surprisingly the bigger clothes actually made him look smaller because they didn't cling in his stomach area, therefore not bringing attention to it.

Right before they left the fitting room Sam saw Dean staring down at him, in a way silently asking if he looked okay. It made Sam's heart swell that his brother trusted his opinion so strongly. Sam gave his brother a quick nod and a wink, watching in awe how those simple movements seemed to perk Dean right up.

* * *

They met Nicole who was patiently waiting for them and she started Sam out on some simple exercises to see where he was at. She had him do the basics with sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups and her eyes went wide with surprise when Dean joined in right next to Sam. She obviously wasn't used to family member's being so involved and he could almost feel her excitement over the fact as she not so subtly was encouraging Dean to continue to join in, not realizing that it was a normal thing for Dean.

Nicole was not only impressed with Dean's dedication but with Sam's strength as well. She didn't hide it when Sam finished his exercises quickly and with ease.

"Sam, do you live a very active lifestyle?"

"Uh yeah. Real active actually. And Dean helps me exercise all the time." He shrugged, watching Nicole get a thoughtful expression on her face and turned to Dean.

"Can you show me some of the exercises you help him with?"

"Sure." Dean answered her and fell into an easy routine, massaging and bending Sam's legs back and forth, doing all the different exercises for them that he had been doing for years on end.

When they were done Nicole was smiling at their whole exchange, complete with the brotherly bickering and all. "Dean, have you ever decided to try out a job as a professional trainer? Because you almost know more than I do. I'll stick around with you guys and show you how the machines work but you two have this stuff down."

After Sam had used his arms to climb a rope in the gym a few times, the next hour was filled with Sam using various equipment that would exercise his legs. One of the machines was like a sort of exercise bike. Sam strapped in his feet and instead of pedaling, used his hands to push handlebars back and forth while they moved his legs in the same motion that a bike would. If it wasn't for Nicole stopping him, Sam could have gone on forever with his arm muscles. After that he went on one of his favorite machines where he sat on a chair and strapped himself in as well as strapping his feet down. Then he slowly pushed another big lever on the side of the machine. Each time he pushed it the lever moved his seat up higher and higher until he was standing, propped up by a little table that he could rest his hands on and lean against. Most people just using the machine would have to stop after a few minutes because of a rise in their blood pressure, but because Sam was so fit he could stay on it for long periods of time.

As expected, Dean especially enjoyed this machine because it allowed Sam to 'stand' and see things from a higher angle. Anything that really allowed Sam some sense of 'normalcy' Dean was all for. Sam laughed as his brother tilted his head up slightly to look at him, his eyes sparkling.

"I told you that you were an abnormally gigantic freak."

"Yeah and I never realized how short you were."

Dean just shook his head before looking back at Sam. "Ready to try the parallel bars in a bit and then call it a day here? I did promise you bowling; don't want you to get too wiped out."

Sam had agreed. Usually they would have stayed a while longer but rehab really did take its toll on Sam after a while. Ten minutes later Sam was making his way across the bars, somewhat slower than usually because of his weak wrist. The trainer was pretty much all but gone seeing as how well Dean was handling the situation, standing right in front of Sam in case he was to fall.

Turning around at the end of the bars was the most difficult part. Sam let Dean adjust his feet on the floor and then, for a split second, he put his full weight on his legs and let go of the bars in order to turn around. He sighed in relief when again he had a vast grip on the bars. Smiling, he looked up and then startled. John was standing beside him, ready to help and watching him with a mixture of proud and worry. Sam had been so concentrated on turning around, that he hadn't heard him approach. His grip loosened some, and since his wrist wasn't as strong as usual, his hand slipped from the bar. Sam couldn't help but panic a little bit inside as he began to fall even though he knew he wouldn't be hitting the floor any time soon.

Sam was right as Dean reached forward on instinct, bracing himself for Sam's weight as the younger brother landed in his arms. Sam's head came to rest against Dean's chest for a few seconds, his cheek brushing against the amulet that Sam had gotten his older brother a few years before on Christmas. Sam let out a sigh of relief as he felt Dean raise him up so he was upright again and Sam grabbed a hold of the bars.

"Heya Sammy." John said as he reached up and ruffled his youngest's hair. "Wow...look at you..."

Looking down at his father...first of all it was strange enough to be looking down to anyone but a small child...Sam couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Usually John didn't accompany him to his rehab visits. It was usually always Dean that took him when John was doing some work on a hunt alone. So his father very rarely got to see him nearly walking and Sam didn't want to let him down now that John had the rare chance to see him.

"Sammy..." John chuckled. "It's alright, relax."

Sam nodded and tightened his grip on the bars; he needed to stop feeling nervous.

"Now let's see my baby boy walk." John told him as he stared at him eagerly.

"You make it sound like I'm a one year old kid learning to walk for the first time." Sam huffed with good humor.

"Well you are basically learning how to walk in your own way." John pointed out.

"And you do act like a one year old most of the time." Dean butted in.

Sam glared at his brother as John whacked him in the shoulder. At their little exchange Sam was feeling much more at ease. He took a deep breath and made sure he was standing straight and steady before using his arms to swing his legs forward. Because he had to wear leg braces to keep his knees locked, he could feel more weight pulling at his waist which made moving feel even stranger than it already was.

But he did it. He was shaking more than usual but Sam used his big brother as a focal point who was standing loyally in front of him.

_You've done this countless times. And it's not the first time you've done this in front of Dad. You're fine. _Sam told himself. He felt pretty exhausted and knew he wouldn't be able to use the crutches today. But he was doing so well, and he planned to visit the center again in a few days and use them for the first time. It was with that thought that Sam pushed past his nerves and found confidence in front of his father and before he knew it, he reached the end.

Sam was ready for Dean to grab a hold of him and help him sit down on the bench beside him, like usual. To his surprise though John was suddenly at his side and helped move his youngest son on his own. He didn't say much as he moved Sam to the bench, but words weren't needed. John placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and when he looked up there were tears in his father's eyes and a proud grin on his face.

That was all that Sam needed.

* * *

Sam loved bowling, not only for the entertainment but because of the memories it brought back. The sport had been Sam's first real outing with his family, and bowling alleys were the home of the first place he had really bonded with John. Sam still remembered the very first time they all went bowling, John was practically a pro at it, and Sam had been nervous that he would get a horrible score and embarrass himself. He did just as bad as he had expected, but he didn't have to worry because Dean had been equally as bad. John had shaken his head at the two of them and had promised to make them pro bowlers in the coming years.

Well, neither of them were pros but they were pretty decent by now. John always finished with more than 250 but both Dean had Sam had an average around 150, making the sport fun and competitive for the both of them. And John had been extremely dedicated with teaching both his sons how to bowl. Sam had to imagine that it must have been difficult teaching your wheelchair-bound son how to play a sport when the technique was completely different for someone who could stand. John actually had placed himself in a chair in front of the lane, learning how to throw from a lower angle in order to teach it to Sam.

Sam watched his father land a strike. "Not again," he sighed in mock desperation. "What's the sense in going bowling with dad anyway?" he asked Dean. "It's not like we can ever beat him."

Dean shrugged. "I'll try," he announced with a grim face.

Sam laughed. "Where did he come from in the first place? Did you tell him to come over?"

"No, I just texted him where we were so he knew where we were at." Dean smirked. "What? You feel self-conscious about Dad seeing you walking?"

"You can't call it walking what I did."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, you're right, I call it falling." He punched Sam's shoulder playfully. "Come on, you did great. I can't wait to see you walking on crutches."

"So do I." John let himself plop down on a chair. "But remember that we're on a hunt."

Dean sobered up. "Did you get some new insights in the morgue?"

"No, nothing new." John shook his head. "The girl has been dead for days. Her throat was slashed quite forcefully."

"Poor thing," Sam pondered. "Maybe she was already dead when Mrs. Culler saw her mistreating the kittens. Mr. Culler told me that she acted weird, even for the spoiled girl she was."

"We talked to Mr. Mendel this morning before we went shopping and to the rehab center," Dean told his father. "He was a bit confused but he remembered bumping into the girl on the day Mrs. Culler was killed. Do you think that could be important in any way?"

John shrugged. "Maybe. But I have no clue what we're dealing with. Did you find out anything else?"

"No, nothing important, we mainly just helped him feel better because he was really creeped out about this whole thing. Anyway, I still think it's a shapeshifter." Dean turned to Sam. "Why can't you just dream about it? Another vision would come in handy now."

"It doesn't work that way, Dean, and you know it." Sam tried not to show his annoyance. It wasn't as simple as that. Actually, he was glad that he hadn't experienced any more visions since they had left Michigan. He wasn't too keen on having those dreams; they made him feel even more like a freak.

John seemed to understand and changed the subject. "It's your turn, Sam," he said, nodding his head to the bowling lane.

"Right." Sam took a bowling ball and placed it in his lap then positioned his wheelchair. From the corners of his eyes he could see a few girls watching him. It made him nervous. But then he shrugged. People wouldn't expect a boy in a wheelchair to be good at bowling.

He put his fingers in the holes and got ready to throw the ball his special way. It was uncomfortable to throw the ball like most people do by twisting their wrists so their palms were upward. He tried that before and it felt kind of awkward and sometimes he would fit he wheels in doing so. By not twisting his wrist his arm was in a more comfortable position. He sent the ball on its way and held his breath when he saw that it looked like he had made a good throw. With a clattering sound they all fell down. Strike! Sam heard Dean jump up from his seat and cheer. The girl smiled at him and applauded silently. Sam smiled at her in response before he turned around just in time to see how John grabbed Dean's shirt and pulled him down from where Dean stood on his chair.

"Quit acting like a ten-year-old, Dean," he grunted, but his eyes shone with pride. "I always knew that Sam was good."

"And so do I. Can't a guy cheer for his brother?"

"Not when you act like that every freaking time! You don't see Sam going nuts whenever you get a strike, now do you?"

"That's because I really get into the game. And Sam's boring."

Sam shook his head and told Dean to hurry and take his turn, thinking he had the greatest family in the world.

* * *

After coming back from the bowling alley Dean left to go meet the girl from the bar. Dean had asked Sam if he wanted to come along but Sam really saw no point because he pretty much knew what Dean really wanted to do later in the night but he felt glad that Dean had but him first.

Sam and John were both pretty exhausted. Just to humor Dean and because he was in a good mood Sam had played along with Dean at the bowling alley. Every time Dean did good on his turn at bowling Sam had acted just as obnoxious as Dean had been acting. It had happily surprised Dean but made their father groan and not so seriously scold the both of them. Even though they were fully grown they were still boys and as they always say, boys would be boys. And Sam figured John had it coming the way he always slaughtered the brothers at bowling.

So now that John had a pounding headache from the boys he was ready to sleep just as much as Sam was. The two of them hit their beds and neither of them realized it when Dean came back much later than he usually did.


	9. Chapter 9

_Back with the next chapter! This actually took me shorter than I thought it would. Thanks as always for all of the reviews and continued support. Enjoy reading!_

_

* * *

_

From the moment Sam got up he could tell that Dean's mood had shifted from his happy-go-luckfy mood last night. Dean was sitting on the couch, where he had to have slept with a grouchy look on his face. Sam cleared his throat to get his brother's attention and when Dean looked over Sam quirked his eyebrow.

"Came back late." Dean grunted. "Didn't want to wake you up." He referred to why he fell asleep on the couch instead of the bed.

"Alright, so how did it go last night?" Sam grinned, expecting Dean to reply with some smart-ass remark; instead he seemed to get mad.

"Horrible...just...I'd rather not talk about it." Dean grabbed his blankets and threw them off of him before standing up.

Sam was shocked; this would do nothing but bring Dean's confidence down after he worked so hard to try to fix it. "I thought maybe you had gone back to her place since you were gone so long."

"Yeah?" Dean scoffed. "That's what I thought would happen too."

"Then what went so bad? Did she stand you up or something?"

Dean glared at Sam. "That would've been better. No, she used me."

Sam was confused. "What? It's not like you two were going to date or something..."

"No, but she was supposed to be with me. It was supposed to be me she was interested in. She acted like it the other day. But you know what she did today? She faked being attracted to me just because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous who was there with his friends. That's it; she was never interested at all."

Sam felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach. "Oh Dean..."

"And then she had the guts to ask me if she could borrow money when she was going to leave with the ex! So needless to say I stayed at the bar for practically the whole night trying to forget about it."

"Dean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sam shook his head, wondering why people didn't see just how amazing Dean was.

Dean shrugged as he pulled out a box of cereal. "Whatever." He mumbled.

"Just remember, it's only one stupid girl. Just like you told me about my bad date, don't let it get to you Dean." Sam then noticed something. "Dude, are you eating cereal?"

Dean paused before he turned around. "Yeah, what's the big deal?"

"You never eat cereal especially when there's a box of donuts left over in the fridge." Sam laughed but suddenly bit his lip. "Dean, you aren't trying to go on a diet are you?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned back to the cereal. "Maybe she would have thought twice about dumping me if I would have looked better."

"Dean you don't need to go on a diet because of some stupid bitch."

Grabbing his cereal bowl, Dean got up and moved Sam's wheelchair out of the way as he sat down at the table. "Apparently I do. I don't plan on never getting laid again."

Sam rubbed at his eyes in frustration at loss of what to say next. It seemed as nothing he could say would fix Dean's bad mood. Luckily John chose that moment to get out of the bathroom from his morning shower.

"Really Dean, cereal?" John comically raised his eyebrows as Dean slammed his spoon on the table.

"You two are so freakin' annoying; I don't know how I can stand it. Can't a guy eat?"

Yikes. Sam grabbed his father's attention and shook his head, letting John know not to press the issue any further.

"Okay. Well hurry up and get ready boys. I've got us an appointment with the deceased girl's parents."

* * *

Sam figured the last thing Dean needed to make him feel better was listening to a sobbing-overemotional mother and a very angry father.

"I just don't get it!" The man yelled for a third time causing Sam to squirm. "She was just here the other day! Then she goes out for a walk and vanishes and her body was found rotted and weeks old? She was just here!"

"Are you sure it was your daughter?" Dean asked, sounding irritated and Sam flinched for his brother, knowing the man was just going to get angrier.

"What the hell do you mean 'are you sure it was your daughter'? Of course it was her! Don't you think I know my baby girl when I see her? Are you on drugs? How could you ask that question?" He glared at Dean.

"We're sorry sir; we're just trying to make as much sense of this as we possibly can. We're trying to find an explanation just as much as you are." Sam tried to save the conversation.

"Was your daughter acting strange at all? Any behavior that was out of the ordinary?" John asked, trying to get some information out.

That got the father to hesitate, if only for a minute. Then his angry face was back on. "Sure, she was acting a little bit off. Like she was upset and she was moodier. But nothing major."

The mother let out another sob. "I should have tried harder to find out what was wrong with her! It's all my fault! I could have helped stop this from happening!"

The man wrapped an arm around his wife. "Don't think like that honey. For all we know she's still out there. You saw her just like I did; she was perfectly healthy how could she have rotted like that? We can't give up hope that she's still alive."

Sam's heart clenched at the sight in front of him. The poor couple just lost their only child and was just living on false hope. There would be no way for them to know the truth; they would never have peace over her death, always wondering if she's still out there...

"Can we check out your daughter's room?" Dean asked and earned a shocked glare from the father. Dean looked flustered. "Just to see if there might be any evidence. You'd be surprised by some of the things we find."

The father continued to glare at Dean before his wife sobbed again. Distracted, he simply nodded. "Make it quick."

Sam turned to John who waved for them to go on their own. He was going to try to talk to the parents and Sam thought that might be a good idea. John was a father who had thought he lost a son; maybe he could help them in a way since he lived through that pain.

Sam followed Dean into a room decorated with photos of friends and posters of movie stars, the typical girl's room. But if something had been living here in her place under a disguise, who knows what it could have left behind.

Sam wheeled over to the low windowsill checking for any signs of sulfur or forced entry. There were none but the other window needed to be checked as well. Problem was that it was way too high for Sam to reach. Sam turned around to ask Dean to check it only to find that Dean had dug under the girl's bed and pulled out a diary and a little locked box.

"Geeze, creeper much?" Sam laughed as Dean gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"How'd you know to look down there?"

Dean shrugged and starting flipping through the pages of the diary. "Doesn't every girl have one of these? All her little secrets she keeps under her bed?"

"Yeah I guess, it's pretty stereotypical anyway." Sam picked up the box that Dean had left on the bed and examined the little lock holding it shut.

"I really hope Henry will notice my new outfit." Dean started reading from the diary in a girly sing-song voice. "I think it makes me look really cute, maybe he'll finally take his eyes off of Miranda for once and realize that I'm better for him." He threw the diary back on the bed. "That was in her last entry. It was dated two and a half weeks ago."

Sam flipped through the pages as well. It was true. "And what's even weirder is that she had been writing in it every day or every other day since she got the thing. She wouldn't just stop...what would some creature want to do posing as this every-day girl? I don't get it..."

"Maybe they're bored." Dean pointed out.

"Bored?"

"Yeah, hey I don't know. We've seen monsters do crap for fun before with no pattern. It sounds like it might be that kind of situation again. Maybe you're right with your theory, it's probably not a shape shifter, and they usually aren't this messy."

Sam nodded as he grabbed his lock pick to unlock the little box. "Leaving bodies behind, and not killing off one of it's victims in Greg? That is weird. But I wouldn't rule it out yet. Maybe if it is a shifter it realized there were hunters here and got scared and quickly left. That's why it didn't bother to hide the girl's body or kill Greg because it was in a rush to get out of the town?" Sam thought it was a valid possibility.

Dean shrugged once more, watching as Sam worked on opening the box. "I don't think it would run away because of hunters. They're braver than that. They'd probably want to stay and fight them off."

Sam sighed as his lock pick was just too big to open the tiny but very firm lock the girl had put on the box. "Dean, do you have any idea where the key to this thing might be? The lock is too small."

"Let me try to find it." Dean said as he got up form the bed. He walked over to the girl's dresser and shuffled through a few things before picking up her jewlry box. He opened it up and to Sam's surprise, pulled out a tiny silver key.

"Dude, you really _are _a creeper." Sam told his brother as Dean handed him the key.

"Hey, it seemed like a decent place to hide it. Somewhere where it's easy for her to get to but where her parents wouldn't dig through."

Sam just rolled his eyes and finally got the box open to find it full of notes about Henry and even drawings of the two of them holding hands or dancing. Dean let out a chuckle at the drawings but Sam sighed and shook his head, before putting the stuff back.

"I think this confirms it. Remember when I told you that Mr. Culler said his wife saw this girl abusing animals? He said she was a rich girl and probably thought she could get away with it. I thought maybe we might find something in this box that would let us know if she is a trouble maker but from all this..." He mentioned towards the papers. "She just seemed like she was an innocent sweet girl with a big crush."

"So what do you think?" Dean asked.

"I think if it is a shifter, it had already morphed into her when the animal abuse happened. When Mr. Culler's wife confronted the shifter, she made it angry. So then it turned into Greg and killed her."

"Why didn't it just stay as the girl when it killed her?" Dean questioned.

Sam thought for a moment before he came up with an idea. "Well, think about it. Would this small teenage girl be able to kill Mrs. Culler? I think the shifter's strength depends on the person it poses as. When we talked to Greg the other day he did say he passed her on the streets. It probably bumped into him and the contact could have been enough for it to be able to shift into him. It used Greg's strength to kill her. And Greg killing Mrs. Culler would be much more believable so the shifter thought it was safe in doing so."

"But little did it know that Greg was at the bar with friends." Dean pointed out. "Since he was seen at two places at once, he couldn't be convicted."

"Exactly." Sam smiled; glad they were finally resolving the case a bit, figuring a few things out. "And Mrs. Culler died days ago, and there have been no other sightings of multiple Greg's. Which means it's shifted again, probably right after the murder."

"So it's been in someone else this whole time." Dean said. "The only question is who is it posing as and when is it going to kill?"

"It's been posing as someone for a while now, days. So I think that it will probably be soon." Sam sighed, wondering if they could save someone else in time before the monster did its work.

"And that could be anyone. How are we going to find it?" Dean asked, as if Sam knew all of the answers.

"That's the problem. I don't know. I remember when I was back at the library that there had been a few other deaths. Back then I assumed they were also connected to what's going on here. Now...I'm not so sure. I don't think that a shifter would stay here so long. I think this has just recently been happening, which means less victims and less leads."

"So let's say it is a shifter." Dean said as he tossed the girl's belongings back under the bed. "The last person it shifted into was Greg and it never killed him. Like you said, it probably re-shifted right away...maybe into a neighbor of the woman it murdered?"

"That's a long shot though." Sam sighed. "Come on, let's go back out, we can tell Dad on the ride back and sort things out, try to come to some conclusion."

Unfortunately they couldn't figure too much more out. Although they had a good idea on what exactly happened, neither the brothers nor John was positive it was a shifter or what poor soul it was now posing as. After a few hours of headaches and endless research they decided to call it quits for today and pick up again after Sam's try at walking at the rehab center the next morning.

* * *

Sam couldn't believe it was really happening. He looked down and watched as Nicole, the physiotherapist fastened the leg braces onto his legs. She was explaining in great detail every single step she was doing and how the braces worked to keep his legs from buckling but Sam wasn't listening much. Not because he didn't want to but because he was way too nervous to focus on anything other than standing on his own. And by the looks of it neither Dean nor John were paying any attention to the woman as well.

There were some patients and other workers that had gathered around to watch and Sam couldn't help but feel a little proud. Usually he wasn't one to want to draw attention to himself but right now he felt like he wanted to whole world to see him walking. He wanted to show off and most importantly, he wanted to do it right.

Sam looked over at the custom-made crutches that were adjusted to perfectly fit his arms and height. They looked so...small...no not small but thin. How could those little things hold up his entire 6 foot 4 frame? They looked as if they would snap even though Sam knew better. He swallowed hard when the trainer walked over.

"For our first time, we're going to have you standing already when the crutches are given to you. Usually you would use them to transfer yourself from sitting to standing but we're not going to worry about that now and just focus on the basics." Nicole turned from Sam to face his brother. "Dean, you were so good with Sam the other day, do you want to help me get him standing?"

Dean looked just as nervous as Sam felt. "Uh, sure." He said and walked over. The two of them stood Sam up and the trainer made sure Sam's feet were firmly on the ground while Dean kept him upright.

"Alright, Dean you keep holding your brother steady and I'll grab the crutches." She left for what felt like only a second and then she was back, placing the cuffs of the forearm crutches over his biceps. Sam grabbed the handlebars, feeling awkward and not sure what to do with himself while Nicole kept him balanced.

It was a very strange feeling, he was so high up! And there were no bars around him to limit the places and directions he could go. He could go anywhere now without sitting. Sam looked around the gym, wanting to explore every last inch of it while standing. He knew he wouldn't be able to, at least not today but the possibilities were so exciting even if it felt like he had two giant weights hanging from his hips. It was weird standing but not being able to feel himself standing, he almost felt like he was floating in mid-air. He looked down to make sure his feet really touched the floor.

"How's it feel Sammy?" Sam turned his head and looked down...down now that was weird...at his father who was grinning like a child on Christmas Day.

"It's weird, I can't deny that but it's so cool." There was a little voice in the back of Sam's head saying you might want to wait until you start walking, you might not enjoy it so much then. Sam shook his head though, he couldn't focus on that or he would for sure end up failing.

"You're not feeling light-headed or dizzy?" Nicole smiled when Sam shook his head. "Great, that's great. Geeze, I knew you were tall but not this ginormous. " She laughed. "But really the taller you are the more you have to focus on balancing. Your upper body is much more muscled than your lower body. While your strong arms will help you in holding yourself up, all that weight in muscle will have you leaning forward and you'll have to watch that."

Nicole lessened her grip on Sam's arms and he felt his heart leap into overdrive as he began to lean forward only for Nicole to straighten him with surprisingly strong arms.

"It's okay Sam. Just take a deep breath and try to balance like you do on the parallel bars." Nicole rubbed Sam's shoulder in support as he looked over at his brother and father. Dean was biting his lip and John gave him a thumbs up. He could do this, he had to do this...he wasn't going to let his family get excited for nothing.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to calm his shaking hands as he found his balance. He then lifted up the crutches, only to feel as if he was about to land flat on his face. He quickly put them down a few inches ahead of him, afraid to move them any further.

"Can't you move further than that?" Dean asked and Sam was about to respond with '_it's not as easy as it looks Dean' _when Nicole spoke up.

"Dean's right, you know. Don't worry about falling Sam. I know it feels weird as it seems like you're going to topple over but if you continue to go slowly you'll be fine. You have the crutches there that will keep you from falling once you place them down. Now go ahead, use your arms to swing yourself forward."

So Sam did. He used his arms to lift his feet off the ground and swung forward.

He was still standing. He looked over to his family and had to laugh at the looks on their faces, they were so tense with nerves, it was almost as if they were concentrating on this more than Sam was himself.

The youngest Winchester offered them a huge grin, and continued on.

Repeating the process a few more times, Sam was starting to understand how he would have to balance. He wasn't graceful by any means and often swung himself a little bit too forward but he was getting the hang of it.

"Well, look at you. I don't even think I'm needed for the moment. Dean, why don't you take over in watching out for your brother? You were a pro at helping him the other day; you practically know more than I do in some respects." Nicole looked over at Dean who looked caught off guard.

"Me? But I've never done this before."

"I know but just do what I've been doing. Hover over him like you did on the parallel bars, steady his shoulders if he wobbles."

"But this is different...it's...bigger..."

Nicole offered Dean a warm smile. "I know it is, it's a huge deal, your brother's walking. I know it's a lot to take in but you're so good at helping him out and I know you can do this. Plus, Sam would probably want to share this moment with you other than me." She laughed and turned back to Sam. "Wouldn't you Sam?"

Sam grinned, feeling elated. "Nothing against you Nicole, but yeah. I know it's different Dean because there's nothing really supporting me but I trust you man, you know that."

Dean looked back and forth between Nicole and Sam. "Yeah, okay."

At Dean's words Nicole walked away and John flashed his camera yet again.

"Can't he stop doing that?" Dean grumbled. "It's getting on my nerves."

"Heh, tell me about it. I know he wants to capture 'my first steps' but does he really need a whole album full of it?" Sam pointed out as he moved forward again, startling Dean.

"Hey, wait a minute. Geeze. What do you want me to do? Give you space? Hover? What?"

Sam was shocked and actually a little glad that Dean was giving him an option other than automatically breathing down his neck. "Just watch but stay close, I don't trust myself yet. Don't get me wrong this is really really cool but I kinda miss my wheelchair, you know? I couldn't imagine being on these the whole time without being able to really use my hands."

Dean nodded, looking around. "Kinda a bit slower than I thought, with moving around."

Sam cocked his head to the side at this. Dean had been so hyped up about the crutches that Sam assumed Dean had gotten this image in his mind. An image of Sam racing down halls on crutches, being able to navigate through crowded halls and steep stairs. He didn't realize that while it was similar to walking, it just wasn't walking. He had probably gotten his hopes up so high and now maybe felt bad for bugging Sam to use crutches all these years when it wasn't what he thought.

But the thing was, even if it wasn't what Dean had expected, it was what Sam had. And Sam liked it, he really did. And he wanted to show Dean that he was happy and glad that his brother had pushed for him to use the crutches. So he decided to pick it up a notch.

"Hey, slow down! What are you doing?" Dean called out and Sam thought that was funny. He was going at a snails pace compared to what Dean could do. Ignoring his brother, Sam pressed on.

He quickly found out that he shouldn't have though. He just wasn't used to balancing enough for the pace he was going and swung himself way too much forward and was left at an awkward angle with his arms behind the rest of his body.

"Dean!" Sam called out, certain in the five seconds it would take him to hit the floor that Dean would catch him like he always did.

Sam fell backwards and hit the floor.

Dean had been standing right next to him.


	10. Chapter 10

__

**_A.N._**

_Here's the next chapter. I'm going to try getting the rest out a bit quicker. Hope you enjoy this one._

_Thank you Gabi for helping me with this and for writing the awesome ending. I'd probably go crazy if it wasn't for your help! This story would not exist at all without her help, she's the one that thought of the plot anyway! :) I also want to thank both Gabi and Sabine for being there to talk to when I'm having doubts. It's nice to know someone cares and is willing to listen._

__By the way...I made a poster for this series in photoshop. You can view it in my profile right next to where this story is listed under the "Missing Piece" verse. I'd be so grateful if you'd let me know what you think...it's the first time I've published my artwork! *blushes*

* * *

**Previous Chapter...**

_Sam was shocked and actually a little glad that Dean was giving him an option other than automatically breathing down his neck. "Just watch but stay close, I don't trust myself yet. Don't get me wrong this is really really cool but I kinda miss my wheelchair, you know? I couldn't imagine being on these the whole time without being able to really use my hands."_

_Dean nodded, looking around. "Kinda a bit slower than I thought, with moving around."_

__

Sam cocked his head to the side at this. Dean had been so hyped up about the crutches that Sam assumed Dean had gotten this image in his mind. An image of Sam racing down halls on crutches, being able to navigate through crowded halls and steep stairs. He didn't realize that while it was similar to walking, it just wasn't walking. He had probably gotten his hopes up so high and now maybe felt bad for bugging Sam to use crutches all these years when it wasn't what he thought.

But the thing was, even if it wasn't what Dean had expected, it was what Sam had. And Sam liked it, he really did. And he wanted to show Dean that he was happy and glad that his brother had pushed for him to use the crutches. So he decided to pick it up a notch.

"Hey, slow down! What are you doing?" Dean called out and Sam thought that was funny. He was going at a snails pace compared to what Dean could do. Ignoring his brother, Sam pressed on.

He quickly found out that he shouldn't have though. He just wasn't used to balancing enough for the pace he was going and swung himself way too much forward and was left at an awkward angle with his arms behind the rest of his body.

"Dean!" Sam called out, certain in the five seconds it would take him to hit the floor that Dean would catch him like he always did.

Sam fell backwards and hit the floor.

Dean had been standing right next to him.

* * *

"Sam, for the hundredth time, I'm sorry."

They were back in the motel room after the trip to the rehab center and after an angry outburst directed at Dean, Sam hadn't spoken a word to him since. Dean had apologized right away, the word 'sorry' leaving his lips over and over again. But still, Sam couldn't help but feel angry. Maybe it wasn't exactly justified, But Sam couldn't find it in himself to care.

Dean had said that he had turned around to get John's attention, to see how their father was reacting to the events when Sam had fallen. But Sam's mind couldn't justify Dean letting him fall. Dean had promised that he would always catch Sam, would always be behind him with waiting arms.

Sam knew people made mistakes, it happened and he understood that. But when nothing like this had ever happened before, Sam had a hard time knowing how to react and feel. Dean had been allowing him some space the last few days and Sam had enjoyed that so it was easy to understand why Dean wasn't hovering over him like he usually did.

But still, the crutches had been a huge deal to Sam. If there was any time that Dean needed to hover, that Sam would be happy to have him hover, it would have been then.

John had taken Dean outside now and was giving him a talking to. Sam really didn't see the point in them leaving the room. John obviously didn't want Sam to hear but cheap motel walls weren't the best thing to block out sound. Sam could practically hear every word John was saying and hear the disappointment that was strong in his voice. It should make Sam feel better that John cared so deeply about the incident but it just made him even angrier because of the lack of responses Dean had to John. It wasn't like Dean would have been able to get through to their father when he was so angry, but Dean wasn't even trying. He was just taking the scolding without as much as a single word.

"You know how dangerous it is to have Sam hunting with us Dean. I wouldn't even have considered letting him hunt way back then if it wasn't for you. I trust you Dean with everything I have. I saw how much concern and dedication you had for your brother and I knew you wouldn't let him down. I knew you'd protect him with your life, that you'd always have his back. And while this wasn't a hunt or a life or death situation...what if it was? What if Sam couldn't get out of the way of some creature and you weren't paying attention and it hurt him...or killed him!"

"You knew how much this meant to your brother, how important and exciting it was to him and you couldn't give him all your attention? You know he has bruises now where he fell? It might not seem like such a big deal but you know that Sam can't feel the bruises which means he could hurt himself more without knowing about it. We're lucky if the bruising doesn't get worse, Sam doesn't have a lot of muscle in his legs Dean which makes it that much more easily for him to get hurt. This is what I've always been worried about. I don't take Sam on hunts that are too dangerous for him but really...who am I to judge? What if a simple salt and burn went wrong? That's where I rely on you and I need to know that this won't happen again. It won't happen again, right Dean?"

Sam had to bite his lip to keep from shouting back. He wanted to scream that he didn't need Dean's protection on every single hunt and that he could handle it if Dean wasn't able to. But that was a lie and he would be stupid to say that Dean's presence wasn't necessary. He knew Dean was the only reason why John allowed him to hunt at all. For the longest time John had stuck Sam to research only, spending all his time in libraries and talking to victims, even when Sam had mastered training.

But John had seen how Dean was with him. When the three of them accidentally ran in to an angry poltergeist and Dean didn't leave Sam's side, throwing himself into the path of danger for Sam and sticking with him through the whole thing. It was what changed John's mind, Sam was good at what he did and Dean kept him from most harm, he saw the boys as a perfect team.

Now because of Dean's stupid mistake Sam was worried that John might change his mind. Sam knew John had a hard time with himself for letting his paralyzed son hunt monsters and essentially putting him in the path of danger where he could be killed. It was something his father fought with and both brothers could tell he sometimes had second thoughts about it. Sam didn't blame John, he didn't want to lose his son again and Sam was much more vulnerable than the average hunter. And now with their current predicament Sam could practically hear all of John's doubtful thoughts. So even though Sam was still furious for what Dean did, he couldn't act too upset or John wouldn't trust Dean on hunts anymore. Sam had to play it cool, call it off as just a simple mistake and take Dean's side because the last thing he wanted to do was sit out on every single hunt again.

John and Dean came back into the room, Dean looking frazzled and John defeated. That wasn't a good sign.

"I'm sorry Sam; really...I didn't mean to let you fall. It won't happen again." Dean said while staring at the floor. John was looking over at Sam like his reaction would judge where they go from here. He couldn't screw this up if he didn't want to sit on his ass in a library for the next thirty years.

"I know it won't. I trust you Dean. I'm angry, but I still trust you and I believe you. I know you have my back."

Dean nodded and John looked a little better. "We can try the crutches again in a few days if you want, hopefully with a better outcome this time." John said, offering Sam a little smile.

This time Sam couldn't fake. He just couldn't. Falling on the crutches and embarrassing himself not only in front of random people, but his family is was not something he wanted to do again. He just didn't have the confidence or energy to try again. The excitement had wore off and now all Sam was left with was the memories of falling backwards and the feeling of his heart racing and the false knowledge that Dean would catch him and they would laugh it off.

"No, I'm good. I don't want to try the crutches again. For a long time...if ever. I just don't think I could bring myself to try or really to care again. I'm mobile, I can get around just fine and my wheelchair is a hell of a lot faster than those things...so I'd rather not."

John frowned. "Sam you can't just..."

"Yes I can Dad. You're not the one doing it. You're not the one who decides how I want to get around or what I want to learn. It's just waste our time doing something that's not the least bit necessary. I'm done."

John swallowed looking hurt. Sam glanced over at Dean, expecting him to say something...anything in regard to trying again, that he wouldn't let him down again but he didn't. Dean stayed silent, probably not wanting to screw things up even more or bring about an argument but in truth it just sealed Sam's decision.

"I'm done." He repeated and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

Mrs. Mendel invited the family over for dinner a few hours later. Sam had to admit it was kind of weird to have an older woman texting him. She seemed to enjoy texting him a little too much and was always sending him picture mail of her birds doing funny things. But she was super kind and he couldn't bring himself to deny her offer.

Despite his bad mood, Sam couldn't help but chuckle at John's face when Anne Mendel sat down for dinner with Coconut on her shoulder who was squawking loudly.

"Oh shush silly bird." She scolded Coconut who made no effort to listen to his master's commands. "I am so sorry, I don't know what is the matter with him, he's usually so quiet and peaceful."

Coconut let out a loud screech and flew off Anne's shoulder to perch onto the fridge, staring at Dean.

"I think he's mad at you Dean from when you hollered at him the last visit." John laughed.

"It crapped on me so it deserved it."

"Dean!" John scolded, glaring at his son but Anne of course, laughed it off.

"Oh he did, Coconut knows better than to leave accidents on people. He only does it when he's really excited so take it as he really likes you."

Sam glanced over to the squawking bird. "Or _liked _you. I don't think he's too fond of you right now."

"Perfect." Dean grumbled. "I just ruin everyone's day, don't I?"

It seemed to be turning out that the Mendel house wouldn't fill Dean with any good and happy memories.

Anne looked back and forth between Dean and his family, almost with a sad look on her face, like she felt bad for Dean. "You know...my niece is coming up in a few days. I told her all about you and she's pretty excited to meet you. Will you guys stick around for just a bit longer?"

Dean looked out of his element as he stumbled for words, but John smiled. "Of course, we were planning to stay for at least a few more days anyway. Isn't that great Dean?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, cool."

"You'll love Maggie! She is such a sweetheart, but just to warn you she loves to talk."

"Yeah, wonder where she got that from..." Dean mumbled under his breath when Anne went to help Greg carry in the dinner plates. John jabbed Dean with his shoulder, giving him a menacing look.

"I feel like I'm talking to a four year old. Behave Dean." He growled but quickly offered up a smile as the couple entered the room with the dishes of food.

"Here we have my special lasagna, corn on the cob and fresh baked rolls." Anne grinned as she and her husband placed down the food.

"And we have lemon-meringue pie coming after. You can't forget the pie honey."

Anne rolled her eyes. "You men and your fattening desserts." She tsked, it was the closest Sam heard her sounding angry, and she couldn't even pull it off in the least.

* * *

After the main meal was finished, Anne left and came back in from the kitchen with the freshly baked and delicious smelling pie. "Who wants a slice?"

"I'll have one." Sam smiled and John asked for one too.

"What about you sweetie?" Anne asked Dean, who was playing with his food which was hardly touched.

"It's okay, I'm good."

There was a little bit of tension in the air, brought on by Anne wanting to say something to cheer up Dean, but unsure of what. Then Coconut flew over to land on John's shoulder, causing everyone to laugh...even John managed a scared smile.

"You should really join me and my friends at the Coyote Lounge bar anytime soon!" Greg enthused, trying to distract John from the bird on his shoulder and John seemed inclined to accept.

"I'd like to meet your friends," he said. "Weren't they the ones who gave you an alibi for the murder night?"

"Yes. I was so glad that I was seen at the bar when it happened. Imagine if I had been at home alone. No one would ever believe that it hasn't been me."

"It's still strange that it seemed to have been someone who looked exactly like you," Sam chimed in. "Mr. Culler seemed pretty sure it was you."

"Did anything unusual happen that day?" John asked.

Greg shook his head. "Not that I noticed."

"You had something to do with both people that were killed recently." John held his hands out in a placating way. "No offence, I don't want to imply anything, I'm just trying to understand what happened."

"Me too", Greg sighed. "I didn't even know this Mrs. Culler."

"But you knew the girl," Sam reminded him. "What was her name?"

"Brooke," Dean supplied. Surprised, Sam and John looked at him. It was the first thing Dean had said in a long time.

"Yes, that was her name." John nodded. "You knew her well?"

"Not that well," Greg told them. "I know her parents and I always thought she was a spoiled brat. But when I bumped into her that day, I almost fell to the ground and she helped me regain my balance. She was really nice and helpful."

"She touched you?" John frowned.

"Of course she did. She held my arm until I found my footing again. Why? Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not. It's just so sad that a young girl like her gets herself killed."

"They say she's been dead for a week," Greg mused. "But that can't be. She looked very much alive that day."

"Don't worry about that." John dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure they made a mistake."

"That's what I think. Still, it is scary that around here people get killed and the police don't seem to have even a clue where to look for the culprit. Why would someone go and kill people randomly?"

"Maybe because he doesn't like them?" Dean sounded upset and everyone looked at him.

"Do you go and kill all the people you don't like, honey?" Mrs. Mendel asked with a nervous laughter.

Dean had already opened his mouth when, after a look at John's stern face, he bit back his reply and only shrugged. "I was just kidding," he said instead.

The Mendels still looked at him, not really convinced.

* * *

Dean was brooding on their way home. John had tried to start a chat, but he'd got only short answers. Sam seemed to be distracted as well. He looked out the window, apparently deep in thought.

John heaved an inner sigh. He hated it when his sons weren't on speaking terms. They had their quarrels, all right, but this time it was different. Although Sam had reassured Dean that everything was okay, he didn't seem to trust him anymore. There had been none of their usual friendly banter since the incident at the rehab center and John realized that he missed it. The problem was that he didn't have a clue what to do about it. His boys had to sort it out by themselves.

Sam suddenly started. "Please pull over, Dad," he asked. "There's an electronics shop right over there. I need some batteries for my flashlight."

John nodded and pulled over to the small parking lot in front of the shop. He had always taught his sons to keep an eye on their equipment. A flashlight that didn't work because of empty batteries could be dangerous, if not even fatal, on a night hunt.

"Do you want me to get them for you?" he offered, but Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I can do it, dad, but thanks for the offer. Just get me my wheelchair, please."

John smiled when he set the wheelchair beside his son. Sam always wanted to do all the things he was capable of doing on his own, but this time he had the feeling that he just wanted to get out of the car and out of the reach of Dean's bad mood.

When John got back into the driver's seat, he turned to Dean. "Can we talk?"

Dean just shrugged. "Sure."

"Why are you in such a bad mood? You almost offended the Mendels."

Dean shrugged again. "So what? They're Sam's friends, not mine."

"So you wanted to embarrass Sam in front of his friends?"

Dean grimaced.

"I've never seen you behave like this, Dean," John continued. He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Is it because of our argument?"

"You call that an argument?" Dean snorted. "I didn't even have the chance to say a word."

John cleared his throat. "I was out of line with my outburst. I apologize for that. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. It's just that I'm worried about Sam."

"Yeah, I know." Dean sounded agitated. "You're always worried about Sam. What about worrying 'bout me for a change?"

"Don't be unfair, Dean." John frowned. "I'm worried for your wellbeing as much as for Sam's. But…"

"I get it, Dad. Sam is the cripple, so he needs more care."

John frowned. That sounded so not like Dean. "It's not that. I was shocked because I never would have thought that you'd let Sam fall. I understand that you're upset because of my lecture."

"Do you, Dad? Do you know how it feels to be told off like a five-year-old that has done wrong? I'm almost thirty, and you treat me like a child. You know how embarrassing that is in front of my little brother? I know he was in the other room, but you were loud enough for him to hear every single word. It's not even that I did something wrong on a hunt that led to a fatal injury. I just got distracted for one second. For one brief second. Dad. Too bad Sam chose exactly that moment to fall. I'm sorry I didn't catch him. But I'm not Superman, I can't look out for him 24/7 only because he can't walk. He has to grow up, I can't be his babysitter forever."

John was taken aback. "I thought it was what you wanted to do. Look out for Sam. I thought you…."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dean waved him off. "Give me a break." He heaved a deep sigh, trying to compose himself again. "I'm sorry, Dad. You're right. I care for Sam. It's just that sometimes I wish…"

Dean stopped mid-sentence when Sam opened the door. Smiling at them, he asked. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nah, you didn't." John got out to stow away the wheelchair, and then they rode along, all three of them, now, in deep thought.

* * *

After an evening of staring blankly at the TV, they settled for a restless night. Dean perched himself on the edge of his side of the bed, so as not to touch his brother, and Sam did the same on his side. It was bad enough being together during the day, with all this underlying tension; worse yet was having to share a bed for the night. They didn't sleep much. In the middle of the night Sam got out to get some fresh air, and John followed him shortly after. Dean just grunted and turned on his other side to catch some more sleep.

* * *

Dean was the last one to get up the next morning. He looked around and found the room empty. Just then, Sam came out of the bathroom. "Already awake?" he grumbled.

"Where's Dad?" Dean asked, without wishing his brother a good morning.

"Went to get breakfast. Didn't you hear him?" Sam smirked. "I thought your trained hunter senses would notice somebody moving in the room. You didn't even hear me getting up."

"Yeah. Guess you managed to be real quiet for a change, gimp." Grabbing his jeans and a sweatshirt, Dean brushed by his brother and headed for the bathroom.

When he got out ten minutes later, he froze. There was Sam, sitting in his wheelchair and pointing his gun straight at his chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, Sam. Can't you take a joke? I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, you did. Don't move!" Sam ordered, when Dean tried to get around him. "Don't think I can't hurt you. There are silver bullets in here, y'know. The only thing that kills a shapeshifter as you might know. So tell me, _Dean._" Sam stressed the name derisively. "Who are you and what the hell have you done to my brother?"


	11. Chapter 11

_Here is the next chapter! To all those that are confused, don't worry. Everything will make sense and come together! Thanks so much for continuing to read and review this story, I'm having so much fun with it! _

_Beta'ed by Gabi, as always :)_

_

* * *

_

**_Previous chapter..._**

_Dean was the last one to get up the next morning. He looked around and found the room empty. Just then, Sam came out of the bathroom. "Already awake?" he grumbled._

_"Where's Dad?" Dean asked, without wishing his brother a good morning._

_"Went to get breakfast. Didn't you hear him?" Sam smirked. "I thought your trained hunter senses would notice somebody moving in the room. You didn't even hear me getting up."_

_"Yeah. Guess you managed to be real quiet for a change, gimp." Grabbing his jeans and a sweatshirt, Dean brushed by his brother and headed for the bathroom._

_When he got out ten minutes later, he froze. There was Sam, sitting in his wheelchair and pointing his gun straight at his chest._

_"Woah, woah, woah, Sam. Can't you take a joke? I didn't mean it."_

_"Yeah, you did. Don't move!" Sam ordered, when Dean tried to get around him. "Don't think I can't hurt you. There are silver bullets in here, y'know. The only thing that kills a shapeshifter as you might know. So tell me, Dean." Sam stressed the name derisively. "Who are you and what the hell have you done to my brother?"_

_

* * *

_

_**Almost 60 hours earlier…**_

"You sure you don't wanna come Sammy?" Dean asked his brother as he walked toward the door, about to leave for the bar.

Sam laughed and turned away from looking at the TV and over to Dean. "I'm sure Dean."

Dean shrugged. "Fine, have lying in bed all night when you could be having fun." Dean had really planned hanging out with the bartender...whatshername...and then going back to her place. But still, he always put his brother first. Because if Sammy had wanted to go out with him to the bar, that was more important than hooking up with some random chick.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Really Dean, I'm wiped. And anyway, we all know what you really want to be doing tonight." He smirked and John let out a cough from the other bed, obviously not wanting to hear this.

Dean simply winked. "I'll see you later guys."

"See you Dean." John called out followed by Sam's. "Have fun!"

* * *

Dean drove the Impala over to the bar and waited a few minutes before getting out. He wasn't sure why but he felt nervous. It wasn't like he was going to actually get to know the girl, she wouldn't find out about his dyslexia so there shouldn't be any reason she would turn him down. He knew he wasn't in the best physical shape of his life but really...it wasn't like he looked bad. Sam would have told him if he did.

Dean got out of the car with a sigh and headed inside the bar. He scoffed when he was asked to show his ID. He was twenty six for goodness sakes! But it actually made him feel a little better, that some stupid person thought he looked that young. It was a good thing he stopped smoking before it had the chance to really age his face.

It wasn't long before Dean felt slender arms wrap around his waist. He tensed for a moment, waiting for her to pull away in disgust once she didn't feel flat abs but relaxed as he felt her squeeze him tighter.

"So glad you showed up." Amy, the bartender, whispered in his ear, slowly turning him around to face her. Dean watched her eyes roam his body and silently wished for the best, hoping he wasn't coming across nervous.

"Looking good." She winked, stepping in closer and Dean grinned, immediately feeling a thousand times better and closed the distance between them with no longer even a bit of worry.

"You're looking pretty good there yourself." He smirked. "Although good isn't exactly the word I'd use."

Amy hooked her arm with Dean's while leading them towards the bar. "Why don't you tell me the words you'd use while we have a few drinks?"

"I'd be happy to."

Sam was right, girls didn't think any differently of him. He owed his brother a big one.

* * *

A few hours later Dean was feeling happily buzzed as Amy leaned into him, trailing her hand up and down his arm.

"You know...I really like you Dean. How about we take this back to my place for the night."

"I'd say that sounds like a plan." Dean winked, feeling victorious. It had been a while since he slept with a girl, feeling too insecure not only about his weight but just about...well everything. Now he couldn't feel more confident in knowing his charm still worked even though he had put on a few pounds and that he was still found attractive.

They drove the Impala to her place, Amy leaning up against him with her arms around him the whole ride and Dean thought that maybe...maybe things were actually going to start going right for him.

"What's this?" She asked, pointing to the hand controls, a look of curiosity on her face.

"They're hand controls for the brakes and gas so my brother can drive." He said simply, watching as she ran her fingers over the controls lightly.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked.

Dean tensed. He hated this question. Yeah, Sam was paralyzed but Dean never ever saw that as something that was _wrong_ with Sam. It was just a part of him, a part of who he was.

"There's nothing wrong with him." Dean said a bit too harshly, but didn't feel bad for the way it came out. "He just can't use his legs to drive because he's paralyzed from the waist down."

"Oh." Amy's eyes were wide with something more than curiosity this time and Dean couldn't put his finger on what that was. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."

Dean sighed, remembering that most people weren't familiar with disabilities like Sam's. They just simply didn't know how to react to it, and he had to be more patient.

"It's okay. I'm just real defensive when it comes to him...protective...more than I should be. I just don't see his disability as something that's wrong with him because well, it isn't." As Dean spoke the words he suddenly felt like a hypocrite to himself. It hit him hard. Here he was saying that there was nothing wrong with Sam but he considered his own disability to be something wrong with him. How was that fair? He suddenly understood why Sam got so annoyed when Dean would put himself down because of dyslexia. It was a disability sure, but it didn't mean there was anything wrong about him. It was just something he had to deal with and learn to adapt to...just like Sam.

Maybe he was really starting to understand something here.

* * *

Once they entered her room Amy was all over Dean, pulling at his hair with her tongue down his throat.

"Whoa, whoa." Dean chuckled, pulling back a bit. He was taken aback by how much she seemed into him and how fast she was moving.

"Sorry." She grinned, running her hands down both sides of his face. "But like I said earlier, I really like you Dean. Come on." She pulled him over to the bed before pushing him down on top of it. Amy then proceeded to jump on top of him. They made out for a few minutes before she suddenly pulled back and smiled almost wickedly. Turning away she leaned over the side of her bed and started rummaging through her drawers, pulling out two pairs of handcuffs.

"Aha." Dean said, his eyes twinkling. "I see where this is going."

"Oh Dean..." Amy huffed in a singsong voice, successfully locking both of his hands to the two bedposts. "You'd be surprised."

"Mmm really? I'd like to see some of these surprises."

Amy full on grinned then, nothing about it flirtatious any longer. "You should really watch what you wish for." And then before Dean's eyes Amy..._started to morph. _Twisting and turning in the most disturbing ways, her whole body distorting and Dean found himself wordlessly screaming at the gruesome sight before him. And then he felt something slimy on top of him..._her freakin' skin_ and within a few seconds Dean was looking at his own face.

"Holy shit!" Dean yelled, pulling at his arms that were now restrained as he stared into those green eyes. He had been right, it was a shifter. Not that it mattered now. _Shit._

"Surprise!" The shifter laughed, still hovering over Dean as he squirmed. It then took the opportunity to clear Dean of his cell phone and all weapons before throwing the skin to the ground. It took in Dean's squirming and smirked. "What's wrong? Frightened that you won't be able to escape?"

Dean glared at the thing. "No, I'll be able to escape, there's no doubt in my mind."

"Don't be so cocky Dean. You know I have all of your memories. All that false bravado is just to make up for how insecure and weak you feel. You know, for living in your crippled brother's shadow."

"Fuck you." Dean spat.

"Really now? I assumed you wouldn't want to anymore now that I look just like you. But I wouldn't mind." It sneered as it leaned in closer only for Dean to spit in the monster's face.

"Oh, I guess this is too weird even for you. I can change back to poor little Amy if you want, just to finish what we started."

"What the hell did you do to her?"

"Ohhhh don't worry Dean. You never met the real Amy. I'm really sorry, but you'll never have the chance to. I killed her this morning. I don't need her any longer, you know? Now that I have such a fine new body." The shifter grinned and stroked its well muscled arms in awe.

Dean flinched. He tried to dispel the disturbing image of the dead bartender girl in the sewer. "So this is what you do then? Use people for sex and then change into them and so on?"

The shifter laughed. "Oh no Dean, come on...I'm not that easy. You know I can change into both genders, but that doesn't mean I want to sleep with everyone I meet. But hey, I'm just like you humans...I get bored so I do sleep with some of my victims. I have the opportunity to live as many lives as I want without having to commit to it. It's fun."

"So you live their lives….fine, but why do you have to kill them?"

The shifter shrugged. "You really have to ask this, Dean? They would tell the police about me if I let them live. Can't risk that."

"Why'd you pick me, and don't use the excuse that it was just for my stellar good looks."

It snickered. "You're a funny one Dean; I might even regret killing you. But you are right. There is a reason. I overheard you and that Daddy of yours talking about me in the bar. I wondered why you were so curious and the only way I could find out is by having access to your thoughts." It smiled Dean's smirk. "And ohhh what a complicated mindset you have Dean. Again, I almost feel bad for you. And maybe I wouldn't kill you if you weren't a _hunter."_

"But still I'm going to have so much fun with you Dean. This little brother Sam, the cripple that you're stupid enough to take hunting with you...I see how much you love him. Think about how upset he'll be when his big brother role model doesn't look out for him when he walks…"

Dean's eyes grew wide upon realizing exactly what this thing was going to do. It was going to take his place within his family. It was going to be there while Sam was walking, Dean would miss all of it...and worst of all: what if Sam stumbled? It was going to let him fall, ruining all of Sam's confidence that Dean had worked so hard to create.

"Speaking of Sam..." The shifter trailed off before grabbing Dean's necklace and snatching it off his neck. "I have to wear this now don't I? Little Sammy's present to his big hero of a brother?"

Dean felt like his heart was splitting in two. "Don't you touch that!" He cried, trying with all his might to reach out, only to have his wrists burn from pulling so hard against his restraints.

The shifter ignored him. "I'll never let you fall Sam...never again..." It said, and hearing that come from his own voice in a mocking tone was enough to send Dean to the breaking point.

"You fuckin' leave Sammy out of this! This is between me and you! Not my little brother! Do whatever the hell you want to me but do not touch him!"

"Why? Afraid Sammy can't protect himself since he can't walk? I thought you believed in him more Dean..."

"It's not that!" Dean seethed, _it's because he trusts me too much..._

"Oh don't worry Dean. That won't be the worst of it for that spoiled little snobby brat. Just wait until I..._Sonuvabitch!"_ The shifter glared down at Dean who had just used his legs to kick him in the crotch...hard.

"You think that would hurt me enough to distract me? Stupid hunter, you're going to pay for that." It grabbed Dean's gun from the nightstand and with inhuman strength rammed the butt of it down on Dean's shin.

Dean let out a blood-curdling scream so loud that the neighbors were bound to hear, tears falling freely from his eyes from the pain. He knew without looking that his leg had been broken.

"Too bad I'll have to ruin your pretty face. I guess it's a good thing I'll be around so everyone can see it for a bit longer."

And with that the shifter continued to pound Dean in the face until he passed out.

* * *

Dean woke sometime later, his head pounding and face stinging, not to mention his left leg felt like it was on fire. He groaned, moving his tongue along his teeth, happy to find out none of his teeth were missing. However, he could barely open his eyes. One was completely swollen shut and the other could only open halfway. His lips were huge and split and he hoped to god that his nose wasn't broken.

Looking around best he could he could see that he was in a sewer, sitting on the cold and wet cement. He tried pulling his arms from behind them, only to find out they were tightly tied to a metal pipe behind him.

Even if he was able to get out of these ropes, he couldn't walk. Okay, Sam couldn't walk either, but he always found a way to get from one place to another. Dean's face hardened. He would crawl out of this damned sewer if he got his hands free.

Sighing, Dean tried to get his muddled and fuzzy mind to think of a way of escaping. However, as his senses became more aware he couldn't help but notice the rancid smell coming from somewhere near him. It almost smelt like...

Turning his head, Dean nearly threw up when he saw a girl tied up from across him. From what Dean could see her face actually looked worse than his and she was completely slumped over. It was Amy and Dean didn't have to be a genius to know that she was dead. The smell alone proved that.

Shit. Now he was stuck in some sewer with a rotting body while a shifter was posing as him...Sam and John none the wiser...

How long could he last down here? Sam and John...especially Sam would have to figure out the shifter wasn't him. Sam _knew_ Dean...he'd figure it out and he'd kill the thing. But how would his family find Dean down here?

Dean assumed since he's just ate a large meal at the bar with..._Amy..._it would be enough to hold him over for a while. And it wasn't like his body was malnourished by any means. He'd be able to make it a long time without food. It would be hard...especially with how much he loved to eat. But he could do it, that wasn't the issue.

The problem was water. Dean was already thirsty from only having beers to drink. The human body couldn't last long without water. He maybe didn't get good grades in school because of his dyslexia but he sure did listen to his teacher's lectures. And that's one thing he knew for sure, after four days without water...you were pretty much dead.

There was water all around him. Disgusting, dirty water...but it was water. However the handcuffs restrained him from even bending down to lap at it. And sure, he had a flask that he always kept in his coat but what did that help if he couldn't reach it.

Dean was going to have to wait...and pray that his family would be able to find him down here.

Or he would suffer the same fate as Amy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. My awesome beta and friend Gabi (Gabi2305) wrote this chapter and the following one so you have her to thank for this! :)**

* * *

**Back to present day**

"Sam!" Dean cried out. "Are you crazy? Put that gun away. It's me, Dean!"

"I'm not so sure about that." Sam wiggled the gun when Dean made a step forward and he froze in his tracks.

"Come on, Sam. Look at me. Who do you think I am, if not Dean?"

"Shapeshifter maybe?"

"A shifter? You must have lost your mind, little brother."

Sam bristled. "Don't call me that. Only Dean is allowed to call me little brother."

"I am Dean, Sam."

"No, you're not."

"So what you're gonna do? Kill me? Pity if you had to discover that I was Dean after all, when it's too late."

Sam pulled out a knife from between his back and the backrest of his wheelchair. "You know, Dean wouldn't have a problem cutting himself to prove who he is. So go ahead. That's a silver knife." He threw the knife towards the other man who quickly stepped back.

"I thought so." Sam nodded grimly. "That's the reason why you couldn't take Dean's ring, because it's silver."

The shifter dropped all pretences of being Dean. Its mouth twisted derisively as it looked down at Sam. "So you know. What now, cripple?"

Sam didn't flinch. "Is Dean alive?"

"He was, last time I checked on him."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday. Oh wait, now that I think about it, I haven't checked on him at all since I invited him to stay at my place. Which was, uhm-. When did he go to the bar to meet the pretty bartender who was actually me?"

Sam clenched his fists, barely restraining himself from shooting straight into the impostor's face. The shifter saw it and smirked. "You shoot me and you'll never know where your big brother is."

"Tell me," Sam demanded. It was hard to look at the familiar face and to know that this wasn't the man he knew and loved.

Snorting, the shifter grabbed a chair and sat down. His weapon still pointed on it, Sam turned the wheelchair around with his free hand, so that he was still facing the shifter, who seemed rather unimpressed. "Looks like we have a bit of a stand-off. You won't shoot me until you know where Dean is, and I won't tell you."

"I can't kill you right away, that's right," Sam admitted. "But there's nothing to stop me from putting a bullet in your leg or your arm. You won't die from it at once, but the silver bullet will kill you after a while. And I guess it would cause you a lot of pain." Sam lowered the weapon until it pointed at the shifter's knee. "Your choice," he said coldly, cocking the hammer.

The shifter raised its hands, placatingly. "Okay, gimp, I surrender. I'm completely at your mercy, big hunter."

Unaffected by the shifter's sneer, Sam let the gun's hammer slowly slide back into place. "Where is he?" he repeated.

"I'm not so stupid as to tell you." The shifter sighed. "But I will show you."

Sam didn't move.

The shifter groaned. "Okay. You know what? I'll get you to Dean and I won't even kill you. You can look after your brother and I'll have a head start."

"Why would you do something like that?" Sam wasn't convinced.

"In a way I respect Dean for what he does. And I pity him."

"Dean doesn't need your pity," Sam spat.

"You really don't have a clue, do you?"

The shifter stood, prompting Sam to raise the weapon.

"Hey, cool down, gimp, I'm just getting my shoes." Unperturbed by the weapon that was still aimed at it, the shifter sat down on the bed to put Dean's shoes on. "You know that Dean would give his life for you, don't you?" it continued. "Have you ever even thought about Dean's feelings?"

"You don't need to tell me about Dean's feelings."

"So you know how little he thinks of himself?" The shifter watched Sam's face for a moment. "You know, for fourteen long years he thought that it was his fault that his baby brother had died. The feeling of guilt has been burnt into his soul, has almost been eating him alive. You think it went away the day after he found out you're his long lost brother? Just like that? Think again, Sam. It just shifted a bit. Now he feels guilty because he crippled you, and deep down he still thinks his father blames him for this. He knows that John cares more for you than for him, and the real sad thing is that he's okay with it. He really thinks that you deserve your father's love more than he does."

"That's not true. You're lying." Sam tried not to let his voice betray his feelings, but the shifter's words had hit a bit too close to home. He knew, however, that the shifter was trying to distract him. That fact that it wore Dean's features made it look less dangerous. But if Sam let himself get distracted just for a moment, the thing would not hesitate to attack and kill him. He couldn't shoot it and the shifter knew that. Sam wouldn't risk the life of his brother and the shifter was aware of it. Sam wondered why it hadn't attacked him at the first chance it got. He didn't fool himself, he knew perfectly well that a guy in a wheelchair could never stand a chance against a shapeshifter if it came to combat. The shifter was toying with him, but as far as it led him to Dean he was okay with that.

The shifter shrugged and grabbed his - Dean's - jacket. "Are you ready?" it mocked Sam. "Let's go, then. By the way, please leave your cell phone here."

Sam ignored him, picked the keys of the Impala from the desk and threw them against the shifter's chest. "You're driving."

"Wouldn't have it the other way." The shifter actually smiled. "She's my baby, you know."

Sam bit his lip to compose himself. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep calm if the shifter continued to tease him like that. "Go!" he ordered.

"Your cell phone first," the shifter insisted.

With a grimace, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and threw it on the bed. "Satisfied?"

"Not yet." The shifter came over and with a disgusted expression on its face it began to search Sam. It even rolled up fhis jeans up to his shins.

"What are you looking for?"

"Weapons. You're a hunter, Sam. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a silver knife tied to your calf."

"Apparently I haven't. Can we go get Dean now?"

Arriving at the car, Sam saw himself confronted with another problem. He needed both his hands to shift from the wheelchair onto the seat. He would have to tuck the gun away. It wouldn't take him more than a few seconds, but during these seconds he would be vulnerable. If the shifter went for the gun and attacked him, he would have no way to defend himself. The gun still aimed at the monster's chest, Sam was trying to find a solution to his problem, when the shifter suddenly grinned.

"Let me help you with your problem, Sam." Smiling knowingly, it went around the Impala and opened the door to the driver's seat, got into the car and started the engine. Then it laid both his hands on the steering wheel and looked at Sam, expectantly.

Sam sighed. He had to trust this thing. His nerves wound up like a spring, he placed the gun behind his back onto the wheelchair seat to have it at hand and transferred onto the passenger's seat as fast as he could. His eyes flickering between the shifter and his wheelchair, he leaned outside to grab the gun and then get the wheelchair inside, when the shifter suddenly stepped on the gas. Only his fast reflexes prevented Sam from falling out of the car, and he almost crushed his hand when the door fell shut with a loud clang.

"Are you nuts?" he yelled angrily, turning around to look at the boardwalk behind them, where his wheelchair was left standing.

"Only creating some sort of balance," the shifter grinned, accelerating. "I know what you can do, even as a cripple. I don't want to take any risks. You won't be able to hold a weapon if you need both of your hands to get moving."

When Sam saw the shifter's sneer, he felt uncontrollable rage swell inside him. He'd lost the gun and he'd lost the wheelchair. That wasn't what he had planned. Now he was at the shifter's mercy. And the bastard knew it. It would be easy for it to kill Sam now. But Sam was sure it wouldn't do it. Finally, the shifter was free to act like itself and to show Sam its contemptuousness and it wouldn't want to cut this pleasure short. It would cherish the feeling that it didn't have to hide anymore, and that it could show him that not even trained hunters like the Winchesters could harm it.

The shifter cast him a glance. "Don't be afraid, Sam. I promised to get you to Dean and that's what I'm going to do."

When Sam didn't answer, the shifter focused on the street again. "What gave me away, by the way?" it asked. "You know you're the first one who's ever noticed that I'm not what I pretended to be."

Sam snorted. "Do you really have to ask? Okay, you managed to fool me in the beginning. God, I even felt bad for you because that girl ditched you."

"I'm a good actor," the shifter said smugly.

"Ah, not so good," Sam disagreed. "For one, Dean doesn't really know where girls keep their diaries, or the keys to their secrets. You knew because you were that girl before. There were more hints. Dean wouldn't take his ring off and Anne's bird suddenly didn't like you as much as he did the first time.

"Coincidences." The shifter shrugged.

"Maybe. These things irritated me but they weren't what really threw me off."

"So what was it?"

"You remember Brooke's diary? When you read it to me you forgot about one tiny detail."

The shifter hissed when the truth dawned on it. "Oh geez. Dean's dyslexic," it groaned, smacking its forehead with its hand. "What a stupid mistake."

"Right." Sam smirked. "Dean would never be able to read as fluently as you did. Maybe if he had a book with bigger letters, but not a girl's handwriting. That was the first real clue I got that something wasn't right."

"There were more?" the shifter asked, amused. It seemed to enjoy the situation. "I can't have been that bad."

"You're right, you knew how to act like Dean most of the time. But looking like him and having his memories doesn't transform you into him. You still have your own feelings and you couldn't hide the disdain you're experiencing when you look at me. You're way too uncomfortable in my presence. You didn't even dare to touch me or the wheelchair. It's like you'd burn your fingers if you touched it. You know that Dean uses it just as he uses a normal chair? You couldn't do it. You didn't call me Sammy even once. And you couldn't bring yourself to be as enthusiastic about my walking as Dean would have. Besides, Dean would have never let me fall."

"You believed it at first."

"When I was angry, that's right. But I knew the truth when I finally started to think. Even if we fought, Dean would never be afraid to touch me. Why are you, by the way? It's not as if I'm contagious."

"You're a freak. I hate freaks."

Sam nodded slowly. He figured that much. "Because you're a freak yourself?"

The shifter's jaws began to grind. Bingo, Sam thought. Look at that, a self-conscious supernatural creature.

The shifter eyed him warily. "I don't know where I come from," it told Sam. "I don't know my real parents nor if I even have any. I was adopted when I was a baby. Everything was alright, until I realized at the age of ten that I could change into the shape of anyone I touched. I was confused and afraid, and I asked my parents what to do. They told me to stop lying, so I showed them what I was capable of."

Sam looked at the shifter, intrigued against his will.

"My mother couldn't stop screaming. You could hear her all the way down the street. My father just told me to stay away from them."

"And then?" Sam inquired.

"They cast me out. Told me to leave their home and never come back." The shifter's eyes blazed in fury. "I was ten years old. A ten-year-old, scared-to-death little girl, and they sent me packing."

"A girl?" Sam exclaimed in surprise. "You're a girl?"

"I was born as one." The shifter shrugged. "Now I'm not sure anymore what I am. At first I stuck to the idea that I was a girl and took the form of girls. But I'm getting to like the idea of taking men. They're stronger."

"What did you do after they cast you out?"

"I lived on the streets for two years. Then I learned that I could sneak my way into families by abducting a member and taking their place. It's not like having your own family, though. You always have to act like someone else, you can never be yourself."

"Do you have a name?" Sam asked curiously.

"Yeah. It's Dean, at the moment."

Sam stared at the monster, until it shrugged. "I haven't had a name for almost a decade. But they used to call me Ginger."

"How old are you?"

The shifter shrugged again. "About 19, I guess."

"I see." Sam bit his lip. He would have never thought the shifter was so young. He fought hard against his own feelings. He didn't want to feel sympathy for this thing who wore Dean's face. He had to avoid thinking of it as a human being with a gender and a name. By the way, he didn't even know if the shifter's story was true, or if it was still toying with him.

The shifter threw him a glance and sneered mockingly, but for once the look in its eyes didn't match its actions. "You're way too soft for your profession, Sam," it said. "A hunter that feels pity for something supernatural? Don't let Dad hear about this."

"He's not your dad, and I don't feel pity for you," Sam said with renewed determination. "You killed all those people and you abducted my brother. You chose your path yourself. It's your own choice to be a monster."

"You're right, Sam, I am a monster," the shifter agreed. "But you know what? For that little bit of sympathy I saw in your eyes I might even consider to let you and your brother live." It pulled over into a small dead end street and turned off the engine. "We're here."

Sam looked around. There was absolutely nothing apart from a wide back compound and a lot of garbage littering the street. The shifter grinned at Sam's confused look. "Come on," it said. "Let's take you to your brother." It got out and started walking.

Sam opened the passenger's door. "Hey!" he shouted. "What about me?"

The shifter turned around. "You know, Sam, you were perfectly right that I don't want to touch you. So if you want to get to Dean you'll have to find a way to follow me."

"What?" Sam's gaze fell on the dirty street. Yeah, the shifter surely knew how to humiliate him. "It's for Dean," he mumbled. "You can do it, for Dean." He let himself slide onto the pavement and dragged his body over the tarmac on his forearms.

"You're great at that, you know?" the shifter sneered.

Sam gritted his teeth. He wouldn't allow the thing the satisfaction of seeing him struggle. The tarmac bit into his bare arms and he was sure he would need a new pair of jeans after this experience, but it didn't matter. He only hoped there would be an afterwards, preferably with Dean.

The shifter crouched down in front of a gully cover and started to remove it.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam groaned.

"Why are you surprised?" The shifter set the cover aside. "I'm a creature of the night. The sewer fits me best." It swung its feet into the hole and started to climb down a ladder that was fastened to the wall.

Sam just stared at the round hole in the street.

"What's the matter, gimp?" The shifter's voice sounded hollow, but the amusement in it was still clear. "Dean thinks you can get everywhere, if you want to. I'm only allowing you to prove your worth." The shifter laughed gleefully.

"I really hope you're there, Dean," Sam muttered, when he examined the entrance to the sewer. There was still the chance that the shifter was taking him for a ride and there would be nothing there aside from dirt and mud. But he had to give it a chance. There was the ladder. Carefully, Sam shoved his legs over the edge and turned onto his stomach. Pushing himself backwards, he lowered his body until he could grab a hold of the ladder with one hand. When he let go of the edge of the street, he almost lost his balance, and heard his legs bang against the iron rungs. With dangling legs, he made his way down rung by rung only by the strength of his arms. The rusty iron scraped his palms, and it was so pitch black beneath him that he couldn't see the end of the ladder.

"Would you have the decency to tell me when my feet touch the ground?" he called out to the shifter.

"That would be now," the shifter said in the exact moment when Sam's hand groped air instead of the next rung and he lost his grip. Falling down the last three feet, Sam landed on his butt on the grimy ground. He grimaced, looking up at the end of the ladder. "Thanks," he muttered sarcastically.

"You're welcome." The shifter turned around and strode along the sewer.

Sam gulped. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light that came from above just enough to see that the ground was covered in at least four inches of water, dirt and grime.

"You're coming?" the shifter shouted cheerfully from ahead.

"Asshole." Sam swore under his breath and, once again leaning on his elbows, started dragging himself through the mucky water.

The shifter waited at a junction of intersecting pipes. "Do you hunt with this speed, gimp?" it teased. "You should really think about a career change."

"Shut up!" Sam growled. He was out of breath, and the dirt he was dragging his body through was disgusting. He didn't even want to know what was floating in there. He was already soaked and covered in grime. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"I sure am. Haven't had so much fun in weeks." The shifter stomped its feet into the water and it splashed right into Sam's face. Sam spat and closed his eyes for a moment, biting back his anger and frustration with sheer willpower. He had to focus.

"Where is Dean?" he demanded.

"Just around the next corner. Maybe he can already hear you coming." Laughing, the shifter turned around and jogged away.

"Bastard." Sam tried to pick up speed but his legs seemed to be glued to the ground. The wet pair of jeans that clung to his legs wasn't doing much to help, and his arms were starting to get tired. Sam mustered his strength. I'm coming, Dean, he thought. Just hang on.

Suddenly he could hear him. There was an angry voice and it was Dean's. Not the shifter's, it had a certain pitch in it that was only to be heard when Dean was furious. Sam's heart leapt with joy and relief. The shifter hadn't lied to him. Dean was there and very much alive.

Then he heard Dean's voice again, but this time it was composed and mocking. "I've brought you something," the shifter said. "So stop yelling at me or you won't get it."

Sam couldn't hear Dean's answer, but now he could see a dim glow ahead. There was something akin to a small room, maybe for maintenance. It didn't seem to be used a lot, it didn't even have a door. Sam dragged himself around the edge and into the light of a flashlight the shifter had switched on and put on a shelf. Sam lost his balance the moment his eyes fell on Dean. With a thud he crashed into the muddy water, but he didn't care. His eyes fixed on Dean, he had to stop himself from trembling with rage. Dean was sitting against a pipe with his hands tied behind it, his eyes were hollow and his battered and bruised face looked grey. But worse yet was his right leg. His shin was obviously broken, and the torn fabric of his jeans stretched over the swollen limb. At the same time Sam became aware of a putrid stench, and looking to the side he made out the form of a corpse lying against the wall. A once pretty young girl with a gunshot wound in her head. The bartender, Sam concluded.

"Sam!" Dean cried out. He looked up at the shifter. "You damn bastard. Why did you bring him here? You already have me, you don't need Sam. You-"

"It was his idea," the shifter cut him short. "Sam wanted to be with you. So, as the caring big brother that I am, I brought him here."

Sam had managed to crawl to Dean's side and brought himself into a sitting position. "Dean! Are you okay?" He felt Dean's forehead and found it was hot. His brother was running a fever. Sam pushed himself around Dean and started to untie the rope that bound Dean's hands together. It was so tight that his fingertips were already blue. Sam swore under his breath.

Suddenly, a foot came crashing down on his chest, and Sam found himself lying in the mud again. The shifter towered over him. "I said I'd take you to your brother. I didn't say you could have him. And I certainly never gave you permission to free him."

"His hands are already dying off," Sam gasped.

The shifter shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said dismissively.

Sam wished he could swipe the shifter off its feet. With an effort, he pushed himself back into a sitting position.

"Sammy."

It was only a faint whisper. Dean seemed to have exhausted himself earlier, when he had yelled at the shifter.

"I'm here, Dean." Awkwardly, Sam moved to his brother's side.

Dean licked his cracked lips. "Sam, there's a flask of water in my jacket."

His eyes wide with sudden understanding, Sam searched the pockets until he found the small bottle of water. Unscrewing the lid, he put it carefully to Dean's lips. Dean gulped the water down so thirstily that some of it ran down the corner of his mouth.

"You didn't even give him water?" Sam spat at the shifter, gently wiping the wet trace from his brother's chin with his thumb. "I thought that maybe there was still something human in you, but there's not. You're a monster."

"Watch your mouth, gimp." The shifter kicked Sam's leg.

Dean's head jerked up. "Don't you call my brother a gimp, you son of a bitch." His eyes, unfocused from exhaustion and dehydration, blazed for a moment with fury.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered, touched by the thought that Dean was trying to defend him even in his bad condition. He rummaged through the pockets of his jeans until he found the candy bar he had taken with him the day before. The plastic paper was wet and dirty from the muddy water that had seeped into his pockets but the bar was okay. He put it to Dean's lips. "Here, Dean. Take a bite."

"Isn't that a touching scene?" the shifter sneered, watching Sam feeding his brother. "You know, my heart bleeds for you both."

"What do you mean?" Sam threw a suspicious glance at the shifter, before concentrating again on the task at hand. He pushed the rest of the candy bar into Dean's mouth and gave him more of the water.

"Thanks." Dean's eyes rested on him, sadly. "You shouldn't have come, Sam."

"I couldn't leave you here."

"I know, but still…"

"Your brother is right, Sam." Suddenly, the shifter stepped behind Sam, grabbed his arms and pulled him away from Dean.

"Hey," Sam protested. "Leave me alone."

"Sorry, Sam. Not going to happen." With a hard shove the shifter pushed Sam to the ground and pressed its knee onto his back, successfully immobilizing him. With flailing arms Sam tried to place a hit, but he stood no chance against the shifter, who snatched Sam's hands and tied them together behind his back.

"You promised to let us go," Sam gasped.

"Did I?" The shifter shrugged. "I lied. Come on, Sam, you're a hunter. You know that I can't let you go. You would be on my tail in no time."

"You just wanted a head start."

"And you believed it. Why would I get myself in danger? It's so much easier to leave you here."

"You son of a bitch," Dean yelled. "Let Sam go, you monster. You have me, you don't need him."

The shifter got up from Sam and looked down at the young hunter who wasn't able to move anymore with his hands tied behind his back. Then it crouched down in front of Dean. "You know I respect you, Dean," it said with sadness in its voice. "You're brave and loyal until the end. They really don't deserve you. But this isn't about you. Nor is it about Sam. You're a threat and I just can't risk it. But I promised Sam that I won't kill you and that's what I'll do. I keep my promises."

"Yeah, you'll just leave us here to starve," Dean snorted sarcastically.

"I'm afraid our deal only included the killing part."

"Cowardly fucking bastard!" Dean spat straight at the shifter's face.

Unperturbed, the shifter wiped its face. "You know, I've had enough of your insults, now." He got a piece of cloth from the shelf, forced the dirty rag into Dean's mouth, and tied its ends together behind Dean's head. He grinned when Dean's eyes shot daggers at him. "That's way better. You know, Dean, keep up your high spirits. This way you might be able to last longer than Sam. You can see him die. I guess that would be the highlight of your petty life."

Sam, who still lay on his stomach, tried to turn his head. "The only one here that has a petty life is you," he said calmly.

"I know what you're thinking." The shifter licked its lips and grabbed another rag. "You think that daddy will come for you. But he won't find you. He wouldn't even know that you are here. But be sure, I will tell him. I'm going back to daddy now to tell him where you both are. And then I'll kill him." Laughing, the shifter gagged Sam and then turned him onto his back. "Don't want you to drown, do we? Have a good time." Still laughing, the shifter got the flashlight from the shelf, switched it off and left the Winchester brothers in complete darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

_This was going to be posted on Monday or Tuesday so we would have time to process the new episode over the weekend. But, like everyone now knows the CW decided that it would rather air repeats of VD and Nikita. :( So this will be posted today in the time that the episode should have been so you readers will have something to do. Thanks for all of the reviews and I hope you like this chapter. _

_The next chapter will most likely be posted a few days after the episode actually airs._

_Gabi wrote this chapter as well :) So everything in it is thanks to her._

_

* * *

_

Ginger, the shapeshifter, hummed along during the ride home. She was in high spirits. Despite the initial shock she'd got when Sam had pointed the weapon at her, things had turned out right. The cripple was no match for her. She laughed out loud as she remembered Sam's face. The gimp had actually expected that a shifter would keep its word and would allow him to free his brother. On the other hand, she was sure Sam would have granted her the head start that he had promised. These were strange people. So merciless and yet so honest. She snorted. Her curiosity had placed her in the middle of a hunter family, of all things. She had known that either Sam or John would eventually figure out that she was not Dean. After all, they were already suspecting that there was a shifter around. But it had been too much fun to dupe them. She chuckled. Sam had actually thought he could outsmart her. Not that the gimp would have been able to hurt her without his gun with the silver bullets. Ginger doubted that the boys would have been able to get out of the sewer even if she hadn't tied Sam up. But she knew what the cripple was capable of, and she wouldn't take the risk. Apart from that, the mental image of the Winchester brothers dying a slow, painful death was a nice one to entertain. She smiled when she thought of the boys: tied up in the darkness and completely alone, not even able to talk to each other in their last moments. Casually, she wondered how long it would take them to give up and die.

Still one left. John would never know what hit him. She would talk to him normally and grab a gun, maybe pretending to check it or to just get ready for the day. Maybe it would be more fun to not kill John right away. Maybe immobilize him first. Ginger grinned. A bullet or two into his limbs would be sufficient. Then she could tell him where his beloved sons were and that they were going to starve in a dark and dirty sewer. She would watch the horror and despair in John's eyes, maybe hear him beg for his boys' lives which would be the cherry on top, and then she would kill him.

She parked the Impala behind the pickup. "Dad" was home already. Good. She jingled the keys when she got out. Maybe she would keep the car. Considering, maybe she would even keep Dean's face. It was a strange feeling to be in a man's body, but she liked it. She would be able to keep up with it for a while. Dean was handsome enough and maybe it was time to stop living in families and move on.

She had always hated these families. Families where children loved their parents and were loved by them. They showed her what she had lost. What she could never have again after her parents had cast her out in fear of what she was. She had sneaked her way into families, playing the family's daughter for a while and relishing the feeling of being loved. But it never lasted for long. It was their daughter they loved and not the thing that had taken her face. She had tried to convince herself that it was her that was loved, but she'd never succeeded for long. In the end, all she could do was kill the original and search for the next family that would never really love her.

With a smile, Ginger entered the motel room. John was sitting behind Sam's laptop and returned the smile. "Hey, Dean. Where's Sam?"

The shifter took off Dean's jacket and threw it on the bed. "He got an idea this morning and wanted to look something up in the library. I drove him there; thought you and me could have breakfast together and sort a few things out."

John nodded, pondering. "Do you remember the time when we found Sam?"

"Sure I do." Ginger grabbed a chair and sat down. She would play along for a while, curious as to what John was getting at. "Why?"

"When we brought him to the hospital to be examined, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed to a God I never believed in that there would be a chance that Sammy would walk again. Maybe not at once, but sometime in the near future. That there would be an operation or remedy that would help him. I prayed that my newly found son wouldn't be paralyzed for his whole life. That some day he would walk again." John paused, and looked at his eldest son's puzzled expression. He smiled cryptically. "I'm so happy that it has actually happened. And out of the blue, of all things."

Shocked to the very core, Ginger shot out of the chair as the meaning of John's words got through to her. Turning around, she saw Sam's wheelchair standing in the corner of the room. Shit, shit, shit! How could she have forgotten that they had left it behind on the street? That the cripple wouldn't be able to go anywhere without it? Of course, John would get suspicious! Suddenly, she noticed that Sam's gun wasn't on the chair's seat anymore. She whirled around, and found herself looking straight into the muzzle of said gun just a second before she heard it go off and felt a searing pain shooting through her leg. With a thud, she fell to the floor, already feeling the deadly silver starting to poison her blood.

"Dad!" she cried out. "What are you doing?" It was a last desperate try, but she knew it was useless. John knew.

Another bullet hit her other leg and tears sprang out of her eyes. She bit her lip to refrain from screaming. She wouldn't give him this satisfaction.

"Where are my boys?" John snarled.

On her elbows, Ginger crawled backwards. Her legs were rendered useless, she couldn't move them anymore. She hated the feeling, but it wouldn't last long. The silver was already making her dizzy, and the pain was almost unbearable. But in the end she would win. The last image she would see would be John's despair when he realized that he couldn't save his boys.

"You'll never find them," she hissed. "I've taken good care of them."

"Are they dead?" John put a bullet into her shoulder.

She cried out in pain. "No, not yet," she snarled. "But no one will find them. They're going to starve to death. Your precious boys will die of thirst and hunger, old man. And you can't do anything about it."

John got down to one knee and looked the shifter straight into the eyes. "You know what?" he said with a pleased grin. "I don't care." With that he placed a round hole right in the middle of the shifter's forehead.

* * *

Exhausted, Dean closed his eyes. He shivered in the cold of the sewer. But it was good to shiver, wasn't it? As long as he felt cold and shivered, it was not life threatening. When he stopped shivering: then he would have to worry. At least the cold water that he was still sitting in had numbed the pain in his broken leg a little bit.

He tried to penetrate the darkness with his eyes. There, just about 10 feet from him, Sam had been lying, though now he couldn't see him. Well, with a bit of imagination he could make out Sam's still form. Lying on his bound hands, Sam had no chance to move. Dean could at least move his healthy leg. Not that it did him any good. Every movement, no matter with which limb, sent sharp stabs of pain through his body. He knew that he was feverish and that his broken leg had become infected. His tongue felt like a balloon. The water Sam had given him before had helped a lot, but not enough to bring his body back into a hydrated state. He had lost every sense of time; he didn't know if he had been staying there for two days or two weeks. Idly, he wondered what would kill him first: the exhaustion, the thirst or his broken leg. In the end, it didn't matter. His mind was in such a numb state already that he didn't worry about dying.

Only when he had seen Sam had he felt a sudden outburst of rage, which had ignited him. He didn't mind to die, but knowing that Sam would die with him made his eyes water. Utter despair washed over him when he realized that he wouldn't be able to protect his little brother this time. Sam had come to him and now he had to share Dean's destiny.

Dean cursed behind the gag. How in hell could Sam have been so stupid as to trust a shifter to let them go? Sam was a trained hunter; he should have known better. But maybe he had known. Maybe his wish to be with Dean had blocked out every rational thought, and he had taken the risk just to be with him? A lonely tear ran down Dean's cheek when he thought about his loyal baby brother he loved so dearly. Never again would he playfully call him gimp and receive a teasing jerk in return. Never again would they laugh together and enjoy the banter that sometimes drove John crazy.

Dean smiled a sad inward smile when his thoughts turned to his father. Maybe they still had a chance. Maybe John would see right through the shifter and recognize it for the monster it was. But how in hell could he do so? John would think it was Dean standing before him until it was too late. Until the shifter killed him. Dean shivered again, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. He felt sorry for his father. The whole Winchester family would get killed and it was Dean's fault. How could he have fallen for a shifter? He also was a trained hunter, he should have known. How could he have been as stupid as to follow a random girl to her place, just like that? Dean closed his eyes. Maybe the shifter would tell John what he had done, that it was his fault that they all got killed. And John would die knowing that his eldest son was to blame for the death of them all.

Dean let his chin fall on his chest and started to doze off. There wasn't any sense in trying to stay awake, was there? He heard Sam grunt something behind his gag and smiled. Although he rather had it the other way, it was strangely comforting to know that Sam was there.

Suddenly Dean heard some rustling. Were the rats already coming to eat them alive? Dean raised his head. It wasn't rats. Something or someone was splashing through the water in a great hurry. He tried to shout out, and heard Sam doing the same, but the gags muffled their cries. If someone was there, they wouldn't hear them. Still, newly aroused hope quickened Dean's heart rate. They were in a maintenance room, weren't they? Although it looked filthy and not much in use, maybe someone would come here from time to time. Maybe they still had a chance.

Someone shuffled through the water. Was the shifter coming back to make short work of them? Had it already killed John and was coming back to tell them and then to kill them off?

A flashlight flickered far ahead. Whoever carried it went in the wrong direction. It wasn't the shifter. He wouldn't go by. Again, Dean tried to give a shout and he hammered his good leg onto the ground to make a sound. He hissed from the pain the action caused, but did it again when the flashlight turned around and came closer.

"Dean! Sam! You there?" If the rope around his chest hadn't kept him upright, Dean would have collapsed from pure relief. It was John. Their father was pretty much alive and was coming to get them. Sam would live, they would live.

Sam shouted against the gag. And then the light flashed over their faces and John was by their side. He put the flashlight on the shelf the same way the shifter had done and the small room was bathed in a dim light.

John crouched down beside Sam. "You okay?" When Sam nodded, John turned him onto his stomach and reached for his knife. With a swift motion he sliced through the rope that tied Sam's hands together.

John didn't stop to watch Sam pull the gag from his mouth, but was at Dean's side in an instant. Carefully, he removed his son's gag while assessing his injuries with a trained eye. "Dean! What did that damn monster do to you?"

"I'm okay, Dad," Dean groaned. "Go look after Sam."

John cast a brief glance backwards, where Sam was struggling to get into a sitting position. "Sam's fine, Dean. It's you I'm worried about." John freed Dean's hands, but left the rope that tied him to the pipe in place for the time being.

"No, Dad. Sam. You have to-" Dean tried to raise his hands, but failed with a pained grimace.

Gently, John grabbed Dean's face in both his hands and looked straight into his eyes. "Now listen to me, Dean. This isn't about Sam. Sam can look after himself. This is about you. I'm so glad to have you back, that you're alive. Now let me take care of you."

Sam dragged himself on his behind over to Dean's side. He grinned at John. "What took you so long?"

John returned the smile, a smile full of relief and love. "I had to dispose of a dead monster's body before. Couldn't risk that anyone would find it before we came back." He grabbed Dean's right hand while Sam took the left one. Together they started massaging Dean's hands to restart the blood circulation.

Exhausted, Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head against the pipe. He felt dizzy and if it wasn't for the rope that still held him in place he would have keeled over. The shifter was dead. John had somehow managed to unmask the impostor and killed it. Everything was going to be okay. He allowed himself a half smile, but suddenly a stinging pain shot through his hands. The massage was serving its purpose. Pins and needles were pricking his skin from the inside and he tried to pull his hands away.

"It'll be over soon, son," John reassured him. "We have to stimulate the blood circulation. Your hands were tied together way too long."

His brother also grabbed a tight hold of Dean's hand so that he wasn't able to pull it away. "Was it hard to find us here?" Sam asked their father.

"Not that much," John answered. "I almost got lost in this damn sewer, but I had a fairly good idea where to search."

Dean's eyes flew open. "You knew where to look for us?" he asked, incredulously. "You knew?"

Sam shot him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I couldn't tell you about it."

Dean's gaze flickered between his father and brother. "But how?"

John and Sam shared a knowing glance and smiled.

* * *

**The night before:**

Ginger/Dean blinked when Sam sat up beside her. "What's the matter?" she murmured grumpily.

"Sorry I woke you up, Dean" Sam whispered. "I can't sleep. It's way too hot in here. Guess I'll go outside for a few minutes to get some fresh air."

In the faint light that came from the radio clock on the nightstand, the shifter watched Sam get into his wheelchair and make his way outside. Although he tried to be as quiet as possible the footrest of his chair bumped into the post of John's bed. Ginger smirked, amused. The cripple wasn't even able to get outside without making a mess of it. Granted, as soon as Sam closed the door behind him, John shifted. "What's the matter with him?" Of course the old fox wouldn't sleep through a bump against his bed, no matter how soft.

"Sam needed some fresh air."

John nodded. "That's not a bad idea. It's too stuffy in here." He got up. "I'll join him for a while. What about you?"

The shifter sighed. What was it with this family that they wanted to do everything together, even a small thing such as getting some fresh air in the middle of the night? "Nah, I'm good," she replied, and tried not to sound too grumpy. All she wanted to do was sleep. It was bad enough that she had to share a room with two men, and sleep in the same bed with this giant gimp, but not even being able to get a decent night's sleep was too much. Maybe it was time to move on, kill this idiot who called himself a great hunter and find a place where life was fun.

"Okay," John nodded and headed for the door. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

"Whatever," Ginger grumbled under her breath and closed her eyes.

Sam looked up when John closed the door behind him and sat down on the small bench that stood in front of their room.

"What's the matter?" John asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam feigned ignorance but the smile around his lips betrayed him.

"I got your message." John stretched his legs. "Not even with a broken hand did you ever bump against furniture, when you didn't want to. You handle your chair too well to be so clumsy. So what do you want to tell me? And why don't you want Dean to know?"

"Because that's not Dean."

John frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm almost positive it's a shifter."

John stared at his son, unbelievingly. But then he nodded slowly, as the truth began to dawn. "Dean would have never let you fall."

"It's not only that," Sam said. "There are so many tiny things. Like he can read fluently all of a sudden. But what really threw me off is the fact that Dean is avoiding me. He tries not to touch me, doesn't sit in my wheelchair anymore and sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking, I can see open disgust on his face. He may have Dean's form, even all of Dean's memories, but he's not a good actor."

John looked down at his hands. "Do you think Dean is dead?"

Sam sighed. "I hope not. It seems to keep its victims alive until it changes form again. My guess is that it abducted Dean and is keeping him captive somewhere."

"But you're not sure about it?"

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. "No, I'm not sure. But if I didn't believe it I would go crazy with worry. Dean can't be dead, he just can't."

John laid his hand on his son's arm. "I'm sure he isn't. You're right. A shifter needs its victims to be alive, so that it can get a constant feed of memories."

"But what if he gets enough memories?" Sam allowed the despair he was feeling seep into his voice.

John sighed deeply. "We have to find Dean. Let's go and force this thing to tell us where he is."

"I thought of that too, Dad, but I'm afraid it won't work. We have no means to force it."

"Silver bullets."

"Right, but it won't tell us anything if we just threaten it, and if we shoot it, knowing that it will die eventually will make it even less prone to tell us anything."

John bit his lip, thinking. "I guess you're right. But what're we gonna do, then?"

"I'll confront it right away."

"That's dangerous. It'll try to kill you."

"I'll surprise it when it's unarmed. I don't think it can overcome its revulsion to touch me long enough to kill me with its bare hands. It despises me because I'm disabled and that's my advantage. It doesn't consider me a threat. But I guess it can't resist the thought of toying with me. It will bring me to Dean and leave me there just to show me how superior it is. You'll just have to pick us up."

"And if it kills you both right away?"

"That's a risk I'm ready to take. I'll make sure it won't take a weapon with it and I doubt it left one with Dean. I don't think it will go to the hassle of killing us with its own hands." Sam scoffed. "It can barely bring itself to touch me. It'll find it way more satisfactory to leave us there for a while. It will come back with a weapon, telling us how it killed you just to torture us some more. It'll brag about how he managed to fool the famous Winchester family, and that it was able to bring down three experienced hunters. We can use its arrogance against it. But you have to be prepared."

"That's not a problem. But how do I find you? I'm sure the shifter will take away your cell phone."

Sam smiled. "That's why I bought a small GPS device today." He smirked at John, feigning astonishment. "You didn't really think that I'd let my stock of batteries run out, did you?" Sam snorted when John didn't answer. "Anyway, its range is not very wide, but I don't think the shifter has hidden Dean very far away. I just have to hide the device in a place where it doesn't see it. I guess I can tape it to my thigh and then you'll be able to track us down with my laptop. I didn't have a chance to install the program yet, for the shifter would have noticed, but I'll do it when it takes a shower in the morning."

"So how do we proceed?"

"You'll have to be out of the house when we get up. Just leave us a note that you're getting breakfast. Give me some time to confront the shifter. Don't follow us, I'm sure it would notice. Go back into our room and wait until it comes back."

"But what if we're wrong and it's Dean after all?"

"He isn't. Trust me, I know my brother. But if I'm wrong we'll be waiting for you sitting at the table and drinking coffee. You'll know when we're gone and Dean comes back after a while alone."

* * *

Dean looked at Sam with his eyes wide. "What kind of a stupid plan is that? You could have been killed!"

Sam shrugged. "It was pretty safe. I just felt bad that I couldn't tell you about it."

"Doesn't matter." Dean snorted in amazement. "Unbelievable. My baby brother fools a shapeshifter. How cool is that." Dean pulled his hands out of the grip of his family and wiggled his fingers, grimacing.

"How are they?" John asked.

"I won't be able to play the piano anytime soon, but I guess they're okay."

"Piano, huh?" John laughed out loud and sliced the rope that still held Dean to the pipe.

When the rope gave way Dean suddenly knew that he wouldn't be able to hold his balance. With a surprised cry he slumped forward, right into the waiting arms of his brother.

"Thanks," Dean muttered. Then he looked up. "Hey, I'm supposed to watch out for you, not the other way around."

Sam tightened his grip around Dean and hugged him fiercely. "It's good to have you back, my big, overprotective brother."

John stood up, his gaze lingering on Sam. "So you'll try again? With the real support this time?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe."

Dean broke away from Sam. "Try again what?" he asked in confusion.

"Walking," John explained curtly.

Dean felt his strength come back to him. "You were walking?" he wondered, beaming.

"Sort of." Sam shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Sam?" Dean pierced Sam with his eyes, but when his brother continued to look down at his legs, he shifted his gaze up to John.

"He fell," John said softly.

"You fell?" Dean exclaimed. "How in hell could you fall when…" he trailed off. "That thing let you fall. That bastard was supposed to keep an eye on you and it let you fall." Dean could read everything he wanted to know in the faces of his brother and father. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled. "I'll rip its lungs out with my bare hands."

"Too late, Dean." John laid a placating hand on Dean's shoulder. "I already took care of that."

With unmasked anger in his eyes, Dean turned to Sam. "Did the thing hurt you?"

Sam shook his head. "Let's talk about that later, okay?"

"Sam's right," John agreed. "We'll have time for that later on." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled something out. "I guess you want to have this back."

Dean had trouble to identify it for a moment in the dim light of the flashlight, but then he smiled and took his necklace from his father's hand. "Thanks, Dad."

"So, how about we get you both out of here. Or do you want to make yourself comfortable?"

Dean and Sam shared a glance and shook their heads. "I guess we've had enough of this cozy apartment," Sam stated.

"Your wheelchair's in the pickup. I could fetch it," John proposed.

"And afterwards I'll spend five hours cleaning it. No, thanks. I got in, I'll manage to get out." Sam straightened out his legs and turned around to get down on his elbows.

"No," Dean exclaimed. "You can't crawl through this muddy water. Dad, you bring Sam out of here, I'll wait for you."

Sam heaved a deep sigh. "Dean, when will you ever get it in your head that it's not always about me? Stop treating me like a cripple. I'll manage. It's you who has a broken leg and almost collapsed from malnourishment. Bring him out of here, Dad. I'll be right behind you."

"You heard him." John grabbed Dean's arms and helped him to stand on his good leg. Dean stared at Sam, incredulously. John put his arm around his waist. "Come on."

It was more hobbling than walking, and Dean's healthy leg was too weak to support his weight, so after a few steps, John slid his arms under Dean's knees and picked him up.

Sam watched his father and brother with a smile. That must be new for Dean. They'd had to carry Sam from time to time, but this was the first time that John carried his oldest son. Apparently, Dean had succumbed to his weariness and had laid his head on his father's shoulder, his eyes closed.

Heaving a deep sigh, Sam started his way back. Dragging himself through the murky water wasn't any better than it had been on the way in, but his mind was at ease now. He didn't need to worry for his brother any longer. Dean was injured, but he would be okay in a while. This was the brother he could trust with his life, the brother that would never let him fall. Everything was okay now. His plan had been risky, but it had worked out fine.

Sam panted. Dragging himself through the sewer was hard work. Rounding the corner, he saw John climbing up the ladder. Dean was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, his eyes closed. When Sam reached him he awkwardly turned around and leaned against the greasy wall with a sigh.

"You're beat," Dean stated, wearily turning his head to Sam.

"It's not really a pleasure to crawl through this swamp. But it's okay." Sam grinned. "Spares me the exercises for today."

Dean locked eyes with Sam. "Do you really feel like I treat you like a cripple?"

"Nah, I just don't like that you always put my well-being before yours. You are important, too, you know. You have to stop thinking of me as the disabled brother that needs help all the time."

"It's not like that, and you know it," Dean protested with an exhausted voice.

"Then you have to stop thinking of me as the younger brother that needs protection all the time. Because I don't. I can handle myself, you know."

Dean closed his eyes, but a smile played around his lips. "Yeah, I know. But I claim the older brother's privilege to look after his younger sibling. You'll simply have to live with it, Sammy."

"Hey boys," John shouted from above. "You ready to see daylight again? I'll throw you a rope."

"Okay, Dad." With skilled movements, Sam caught the end of the rope and slid it under Dean's arms. Dean's eyes shot open.

"You go first, Sammy. I'll help you."

Sam snorted. "Sure you do. When will you ever listen, Dean? I'm fine. It's about you now. You'll go first, and I'm going to help you. Not the other way around. And don't even try to protest, because I'm the one calling the shots right now."

Dean sighed. "Whatever you say, gimp. Whatever you say."

Sam smiled broadly as he fixed the rope. The word sounded right again. "Shut up, jerk," he said with affection. "Can you get up?"

Awkwardly, Dean slid up with his back against the wall until he was balanced on his good leg. Sam's steadying hand on his hip was rather for moral support other than actual help, because Sam couldn't really reach high enough to steady him, but it gave Dean enough confidence to let go of the wall and grab the ladder.

"Okay, Dad," Sam exclaimed, and John started to pull. With the help of the rope, Dean managed to make his way up the ladder until John could reach his arms and pull him out of the sewer.

Sam tried to grab the undermost rung, but it was out of his reach by only a few inches. Cursing inwardly, Sam leaned against the wall again. He didn't have to wait for long. A few minutes later he heard his dad whistle and then the rope came rolling down again. Relieved, Sam tied it around his chest and let John pull him up. He was glad to leave the dirty sewer behind.

Sam blinked when John pulled him into the blinding daylight. It was around noon by now. The pickup stood right in front of the gully. Sam rubbed his face and looked up at his father. "Do you have a blanket in the car? Don't want to ruin the seat."

John chuckled and, grabbing an old blanket from a box, he spread it on the passenger seat. After lending Sam a helping hand to get inside the pickup, he set the gully cover back in place.

As soon as he got onto the seat, Sam turned around to face Dean who was lying on the backseat, sipping at another bottle of water. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean told him through gritted teeth.

"What about the pain?"

"I wouldn't say no to a nice shot with the good stuff, but I'll manage."

John slid behind the steering-wheel. "I'll get you to the hospital ASAP." Starting the engine, he glanced at his youngest son. "I'll drop you at the motel, Sam. Go get a shower and throw these clothes and shoes in the garbage. We'd never get them clean again anyway."

"I'm going with you," Sam objected. "I'm not leaving Dean alone now."

"He won't be alone, Sammy. I'm with him." John sighed. "You can't go with us. Just look at you. They wouldn't even let you in. I guess you'll have to soak in the shower for hours before you are able to wash off the filth and mud."

"Yeah, you look like the monster from the swamp," Dean chimed in. "You may have called the shots down there, but now you stink up the whole car, gimp."

Sam turned around. "Shut up, jerk."

Dean grinned. "Stinky!"

Sam opened his mouth for a snarky retort, but he couldn't think of any. He locked eyes with Dean. Things were back to normal again. They would be fine.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you so much for the reviews! After this there will only be one more chapter of this story but I will be writing more to this verse. I'm not sure exactly what yet, but there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading and thanks to Gabi for __betaing this chapter!_

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* * *

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John sat at his injured son's bedside. The doctors had taken care of his infected leg and put a cast on it along with pain medication that would also help with his fever. John sighed as he looked at the few tubes inserted into Dean's wrist. His oldest boy hated having those needles inserted with a passion but they were giving Dean the nutrients and hydration that his body desperately needed, he could already see some color returning to Dean's pale face.

Right now Dean was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning a bit, obviously plagued by the fresh memories haunting his mind. He had only been in the hospital an hour and a half and sleeping for 30 minutes. John winced looking at all the bruises and cuts on his son's troubled face. He knew the hospital couldn't do much about them but they looked so painful, it made him so angry to think of the cause of those injuries. The shifter sure didn't go lightly on Dean, that was for sure.

At that moment John heard a noise behind him and turned his head to look at the doorway. He was startled, but not surprised to see Sam in his wheelchair panting, his hair still damp. The kid was absolutely exhausted but he had still rushed over here to be with his brother, even though he knew it wasn't very serious. It just didn't matter with these boys how serious the situation was, if one of them was hurting, it was like nothing else mattered in the world but being there for the other.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked and wasted no time wheeling over to Dean's bedside. John watched how his youngest looked Dean over with worried eyes. Sam spotted how Dean's left arm was lying in an uncomfortable looking position and gently grabbed it, fixing the arm so it rested naturally on his chest. Sam sighed when he saw the needle going into Dean's right wrist, also knowing how much Dean despised them and gently took Dean's right hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs over Dean's knuckles.

"You sure wasted no time coming here." John smiled. "You should have gotten some rest."

Sam looked at John like he was crazy. "I would have been here sooner if it didn't take an hour to rid myself of that disgusting smell and all of that mud."

John nodded. Of course Sam couldn't stand to have his brother in the hospital without being there with him. The kid probably broke every rule on the road when he drove over here.

"Is he okay?" Sam repeated himself, biting his lip with his eyes full of concern.

"He's going to be alright Sam." John tried to console his youngest son. Just watching Sam's interaction with his sleeping brother made his heart ache. His boys shared such a special and great bond. Although John would never be as close to Dean as Sam was...he still should have known that the shifter wasn't Dean. He was their father for goodness sakes; he figured he would recognize someone posing as his boy when it happened. But he hadn't...Sam had...Sam had known all these clues and John hadn't picked up on them at all. Even when Sam approached him in the middle of the night, so confident that the thing in the motel room wasn't his brother, John had doubted him. How could he be so foolish and blind?

"I know he's going to be okay." Sam said sternly but his eyes were welling up. "But it was so close to being a whole different story. He could have died so easily Dad. What if I had crawled into the sewer only to find Dean with a bullet in his head like the bartender?" Sam squeezed Dean's hand gently, careful not to disturb the tubes and wires.

"We both know your brother is a fighter. He's strong Sam and smart, he would know how to prevent the shifter from killing him so we could have the chance to rescue him." John told his youngest but he knew the words Sam had spoken were very true. Dean could have died easily, the shifter could have simply decided to kill him right away and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. They had gotten lucky.

"You were able to save him Sam." John continued on. "It was all you. You knew that wasn't Dean and you had the perfect plan to find your brother. You never lost your focus and went through so much to get to him. I'm proud of you Sammy."

But instead of the smile John was expecting to see he watched as Sam slowly frowned, worry etching his features.

"Dad...the shifter told me some things when I confronted it. It told me things about Dean and what he thought. I didn't want to believe it but I know that some of it might be right." John stared at Sam in confused silence, not sure where Sam was going with this little confession.

"It could read Dean's memories. "You know it could read Dean's memories." It said that Dean still blamed himself for dropping me, which I know he does...I just didn't know it was so bad. But then it also told me that Dean knows you care for me more than you care for him. And he thinks I deserve your love more, so he's fine with that."

John's mouth fell open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Sam, you don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Sam sighed, looking down where his hand's still held Dean's. He didn't seem to be comfortable saying this in front if his brother, but he knew Dean was out cold from the pain medication. "I don't want to, but...I'm thinking and..."

John couldn't hear anymore of this. "Sam, listen to me. I love your brother and I love you, both of you the same. You're my boys; I could never care more about one than the other."

"Let me finish Dad." Sam said calmly. "I guess I can see where Dean is coming from. You are always saying you're proud of me, like you just did now. Or congratulating me on silly things like bowling. I know I'm crippled Dad but it's no big deal that I do these things; it's no more special than if Dean did them. If I deserve praise for these things than so does Dean. I know part of it might be that you never got to see me grow up but Dad; I'm not a little kid that needs praise all of the time. If I do something that does impress you than that's fine, but make sure you say it to Dean as well if he does something equally as good."

Thinking about his son's words John suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Now that he was actually thinking back...he did act that way with praising Sam. Sure he did miss out on Sam's childhood and wanted to make sure Sam knew his father was proud of him but he actually missed out on Dean's as well. John often forgot that just because he had Dean throughout the boy's childhood didn't mean he had actually been there when Dean was young. John had left him alone time after time, and added with all that guilt that had been in Dean's mind had ruined his eldest boy's childhood. There was no reason why he should be praising Sam more than Dean and he had to realize that Sam wasn't a child any longer.

"You're right Sammy." John sighed and Sam looked a bit taken aback. John frowned at Sam's reaction. It couldn't be that his son was shocked because he agreed with him, could it? "It's just I worry more about you and I can't help it. But that doesn't excuse my actions. I guess that worry just comes across in a negative way because Dean isn't getting enough attention. I love you both equally, just know that."

"I know Dad, but Dean doesn't. Just...you know how little he thinks of himself...just really try and show him how much you care. I mean, what if it would have been the real Dean you yelled at after I fell? I was angry at him, sure. But it was because of how little he cared and how he never even seemed to react when I was falling. I think you were just mad that he didn't catch me. Sometimes he won't be able to Dad, and that's okay. I have to be responsible for myself. I know you trust Dean to look after me but he can't be my guardian angel. That talk you had with the shifter...it was really harsh. I'm so glad it wasn't the real Dean. I know that you were upset because you care, but you were way out of line."

John nodded, he understood Sam perfectly. Dean was going through so much in his mind and John could make it a little bit better just by letting Dean know he cares. Dean's emotional problems were worse than Sam's physical limitations. And there was no reason he should have exploded like that. Sometimes he expected way too much out of Dean but he was only human, he could only do so much and every human makes mistakes. With how dedicated and protective Dean was of Sam, there was no reason John should have doubted him. If he ever didn't catch Sam it would have been a mistake, there would have been a reason. Sam was in the safest hands that the world had to offer with Dean. Not that Sam really needed safe hands to be in, he was very well capable of handling himself

"I understand Sam." John said quietly. "Thank you for letting me know about this."

* * *

Dean woke a few hours later to find Sam diligently sitting by his bedside.

"Dean!" Sam's grin was a mile wide and Dean could practically feel the relief flooding off of him in waves.

Dean shifted in the hospital bed, his whole body aching and his leg throbbing, but he managed to smile back. "Heya Sammy." He rasped.

"Hey yourself." Sam was still grinning as he placed a water bottle up to Dean's lips and held his head up with his other hand. Sure, Dean was hydrated from the saline solution running through his veins, but his throat was still parched. Once Dean was done Sam pulled the bottle away and fluffed up Dean's pillow for him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a freight train." At Sam's frown Dean chuckled. "I ache and my leg hurts like hell but I'm feeling better. I'm sure I'll feel even better with a good night's sleep. Can we leave?"

Now it was Sam's turn to laugh. "Exactly, you need your rest. This is why the hospital is keeping you overnight." Dean was about to protest but Sam quickly continued. "I don't want to hear it. You're exhausted and still running a fever. But the good thing is you're your infection is going down and so is your temperature. The doctors think you'll be safe in the morning and are being kind enough to release you tomorrow with medication. I'm just glad they were able to handle the infection successfully."

Dean pouted but nodded. He was about to ask where John was when his father came walking into the room with a couple coffees. He grinned when he saw Dean was awake.

"Nice to see you awake kiddo." He placed the coffee's down on the nightstand and walked over to ruffle his son's hair. "Are you feeling any better?"

Dean huffed. "For the second time yes."

John smiled softly, still keeping a hand on Dean's head. "You look exhausted, why don't you try to get back to sleep. I know a hospital bed isn't the most comfortable, but it sure beats a disgusting and cold sewer."

"I'd much rather have one of those coffees." Dean jutted his head towards the nightstand.

"Uh-uh, not with the medication that you're on buddy." John took his hand off of Dean's head and grabbed his own coffee. "Once you're off it you can have as much as you want though."

"I'm hungry." Dean whined and he sounded so much like he did when he was six that John had to laugh.

"I can't believe you have an apatite. Usually if you go so long without food you begin to feel sick. The doctors think you should stick to liquids for a today and I agree."

"Then how about a McDonald's shake?" Dean's eyes lit up and even though that wasn't what John had in mind (soup would have been his choice) he didn't want to deny Dean after all he went through. Even if the shake wasn't exactly liquid to begin with.

"I'll go get it." Sam announced, already digging out the Impala's keys from his pocket.

"No it's alright Sam. You're also exhausted, relax and spend time with your brother, I'll go out." John asked Sam what he would like and then left his boys to talk.

"Well..." Dean coughed. "Maybe this forced stint of me not eating for 60 hours will mean I actually lost some weight."

"Actually it takes about 5 days of starvation for your body to start losing weight. And if you haven't had food for at least a day whatever you eat after that your body will just store as fat." Sam explained as is he was reading out of a text book.

Dean stared at Sam with a blank expression on his face.

Sam blushed. "What? Health class...10th grade..."

Then Dean's face cracked into a grin and he burst out laughing. It hurt like hell, but man was it worth it when Sam joined in just as much.

"Way to make me feel better man!" He said, still laughing. "Whatever. I can't wait to get some food, even if it is that freakin' shake. That was just horrible. Not being able to simply grab something when you're hungry. And then to feel hunger pains and not be able to do anything about it." Dean shook his head. "We don't realize how spoiled we are having food whenever we feel like it, even when we're not hungry."

Sam looked away from Dean, he could feel himself choking up and the last thing his brother needed right now was for him to get emotional. Just thinking about what Dean went through sent a surge of anger and sadness through him.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that Dean. I wish I would have realized sooner." Sam said quietly.

Sam heard Dean grunt as he struggled to sit up in bed. "Sammy, look at me." He ordered and Sam was surprised to hear such strength in his brother's voice. He looked up into Dean's bloodshot eyes, wondering how he didn't recognize straight away that the shifter wasn't his brother. Dean held everything, all his emotions and fears in his eyes...they did say eyes were the window to a soul...so how come Sam missed that?

"None of this is your fault Sammy. The last thing you were expecting was for the shifter to get a hold of me. You weren't thinking about the possibility and it caught you off guard when you did realize it. I'm just glad you did realize it and that stupid plan of yours worked. I'm okay, you saved me man. Just...never do any as risky as that plan again...do you hear me?"

Sam let out a short laugh. "No, I absolutely can't promise you that Dean. When it comes to you, I'd do anything to save you. Absolutely anything, just like you would for me. It goes both ways, jerk."

Dean smiled and Sam could only hope that Dean believed him. "Then I don't want to hear you complaining about me being over-protective ever again, gimp."

"You might have a deal there." Sam laughed before he suddenly got serious again. "And I know what you're thinking Dean. You're telling me not to blame myself for not recognizing the shifter but you're blaming yourself for getting captured by it."

Dean's mouth opened and closed silently and Sam hurried to continue before his brother could get a word out. "I know that's how you think Dean. But since I'm listening to you now you have to listen to me." He stared directly into Dean's flickering eyes. "There is no way you or any other person or hunter would have thought this girl would have been the shifter. It was being careful to act as normal as possible because it wanted to capture you. You just wanted to have a good time and anyone would have acted just as you did. What if Jess had been a shifter or another monster? I wouldn't have known and there was just as strong of a possibility."

"I still should have been more careful." Dean whispered.

"No Dean. We can't go around being afraid that anyone we meet is a monster. We can't throw something silver or spit 'Christo' at every single person we pass by. We just have to go with it and protect each other if something comes up."

Dean seemed to think for a while before he nodded ever so slightly. "That actually makes a lot of sense."

"Wow! You're actually agreeing with something I'm saying about you? Uh-oh, the shifter must have had a partner in crime because you're not acting like my brother."

The returning grin was one hundred percent Dean Winchester. "Shut up!" He batted at Sam only for his brother to wheel out of arm's length.

"It's so good to have you back Dean."

* * *

Sam had demanded that he stay overnight with Dean only for both older Winchesters to deny him.

"I'm fine Sammy." Dean had said with a smile. "And besides, there's no bed for you. Do you really want to sleep in your wheelchair? You need to..."

"I know." Sam huffed. "I need to take care of myself and sleep in a bed or else my ass will get sores and my back muscles will cramp, bla bla."

Dean had smirked in return. "That's what you get for being a gimp, gimp."

"And for that remark I don't even feel bad about leaving you alone in this hospital." Sam told him, trying to keep the humor out of his voice.

"Really, it's just one night. And I need my rest; I'll be sleeping the whole time so you won't be missing anything."

And that was that. But Sam had gotten up right at seven the next morning. Urgently waking his father so they could get to the hospital in an hour when visiting hours started. John tried telling Sam to chill out and take his time but Sam had said that Dean would want to get out of the hospital as soon as he could. Sam would never admit this to John, but the truth was that he really missed his brother. After so much time with the shifter, he was almost afraid that Dean would disappear if they didn't get him home safe. He was afraid that the shifter would take Dean's place again. It was an irrational thought sure, but Sam couldn't help but worry for his brother.

They ended up making it to the hospital ten minutes after the start of visiting hours only to find Dean still fast asleep. It only took an hour for him to wake up and by noon they were back at the motel, Dean sitting on the bed against the headboard. There were pillows behind his back to keep him comfortable and pillows under his broken leg to keep it supported.

"I swear you boys are breaking like glass." John chuckled. "First Sam breaks his wrist and now your leg Dean. Not even two weeks after Sam got his cast off you have one on. I'm the old one; it should be me with the weak bones."

Sam had rolled his eyes and Dean had told John to shove off and go buy his poor bed-ridden son some food.

"Fine, but only because I'm a nice father. Don't get used to this though. I'll give you a break for the first week but after that you've gotta start hobbling around and getting things on your own. Don't use this as an excuse to lie in bed all day." John winked.

Dean pouted and tried to put on his best hurt expression.

"Ha, those puppy dog eyes only work with Sammy Dean. Don't even try."

"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up old man, I'm starving over here."

At the word 'starving' John's face changed drastically. Although he tried to cover it up, Dean still caught it. "I'm just kidding with you Dean. I have no problem with getting you food. What do you boys want?"

Dean and Sam listed off the food they wanted and John left. Dean figured this was the perfect time to ask Sam something that he had been wondering.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked. His brother was lying sprawled out on the other bed, Sam had said his arms were pretty sore still. Sam never complained, so for him to say something about the pain, it must be pretty intense.

Still, Sam's head shot up when Dean called his name and he started to push himself up with shaking arms. "Do you need anything? Is your leg hurting?" He asked with concern.

Dean waved him off. "I'm fine, now chill out and relax. I just wanted to ask you a question."

Sam slumped back onto his stomach only to use his aching arms to slowly turn himself onto his side so he could have a better view of his brother. "Sure, what is it?" He asked as he leaned over to straighten his legs into a natural position..

Dean hesitated for a second. He knew what he wanted to ask but he couldn't think of how to express it. He bit his lip and decided to just go for it. "What...what did the shifter do? Like...what did it do to make me look bad?"

His question didn't come out exactly the way he wanted but Sam understood nonetheless. "Lots of little things. For one, it wouldn't touch me. It acted like I had a disease just because I'm disabled. And it was just plain rude. It didn't show concern when we were talking to a victim's family and it basically told the Mendel's that it would kill someone it doesn't like."

Dean groaned. "Looks like we won't be getting any invitations to go visit them anytime soon."

Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I for one just want to get the hell outta this town as soon as possible. Nothing good comes from here." Sam shook his head sadly.

"I know what you mean." Dean agreed. "What made you realize it wasn't me? Was it just that it wouldn't touch you?"

"That was a part of it. It also wouldn't sit in my wheelchair like you always do. The Mendel's bird seemed like it wanted to eat its eyes out and it read an entry from a girl's diary without a single problem. But also it just...it didn't care. It didn't have any of your personality though it tried. It didn't joke with me like you do...actually it wouldn't joke at all. It would call me gimp, but it meant it. It just wasn't like you. You're so lively Dean...this thing..." Sam sighed, remembering the story the shifter had told him. "It told me that you had a bad night with the girl at the bar and that she stood you up. I felt so bad for you and I thought that was the reason for your odd behavior. Then it started to eat Dad's cereal..."

"Oh, cereal! Seriously? I don't eat cereal for breakfast!" Dean grunted and made a disgusted face.

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Yeah I know. But the shifter made it seem like...like..."

"Like I wanted to lose weight because of the bad date?" Dean finished for him and Sam nodded, blushing a bit. "Dude, if I wanted to lose some weight, I would exercise more...run, sit ups...not freakin' diet! Diets are for girls! I would never eat food I hate to _diet_."

Sam was pleased that Dean was openly talking about this without feeling embarrassed. It said a lot and made Sam think that maybe Dean was starting to accept himself. "The thing that made me really know that it wasn't you was the fact that it...after it let me fall it didn't seem to care. It didn't tell me that we would try again or not to give up. That isn't you. You care...a lot."

Sam watched as Dean's face that had recently been regaining its color got pale. Maybe he never should have mentioned the shifter letting him fall...

"Sam, I'm so sorry. You know I would never do that to you. God if I had been there..."

"Dean!" Sam shouted and Dean snapped his eyes back onto Sam's, only to drop his gaze to the bedspread once again. "Don't even go there. I know it wasn't you and you'd never do something like that. I just got a few bruises, that's all. But if I did fall under your care I know..."

"I would never let you fall!" Dean shouted but Sam kept going.

"I know that there would be a reason. That either something was wrong with you or something really distracted you. It would be an accident and I know that you would care. Just know that it won't be the end of the world if something like that happens. We're hunters, there's bound to be a time where I fall out of my wheelchair from a monster and you can't catch me. But I know with my therapy and everything...you'll always be there supporting me."

Dean didn't say anything, just nodded so Sam decided to add a little more.

"The hardest part of it all was realizing that you were never there to watch me. That you missed all of it. I felt so bad, like I didn't wait for you...though I know that wasn't the case."

Dean looked up then. "Will you try again Sammy? Please. I don't want this shifter to ruin the experience of walking for you."

Sam looked over at his brother, studying him. He saw how dejected Dean seemed because he had to miss this major event. He also saw the worry...Dean was worried that Sam wouldn't give something he could love a second chance.

"I will Dean." He found himself saying without even realizing it. "But I don't want to do it without you. I don't want any other person to be standing in front of me, catching me when I trip. I don't trust them, I trust you. So when you get better...when you can stand without being in pain...I'd like to try again. I want you to see me walk."

The answer Sam got was a blinding grin. His brother would have said something in response if it wasn't for John coming back with the food.

"Hey, Dad." Dean asked as John was sorting through the bags of food. "Before we eat, do you think you and Sam could do something for me?"

John turned to look at Dean, seeming a little concerned. "Yeah, of course. What's the matter?"

"Nothing's wrong." Dean replied. He glanced over at Sam's confused face and then back to his father. "It's just...you know the crutches the hospital gave me?" Dean waved over to where the crutches were near his bed. "Do you think...I know Sam doesn't have those leg braces but...he could stand on my crutches for a while if you supported him. I know they're not the type he would use but he could use them just for this. I'd just like to see him at least standing since I missed everything."

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck after his confession. His face was bright red and Sam didn't know why he was so embarrassed. He thought it was really nice of Dean to ask to see him standing. And after everything Dean had gone through, why the hell wouldn't Sam want to give him this?

John smiled, obviously liking the idea but he still looked over at Sam, silently asking if it would be okay with him.

"That sounds like a good idea, yeah I'll do it." Sam smiled at his brother. He knew this wouldn't make up for Dean not being able to see him walk, but it would be something until Dean got better and they tried again.

"That sounds like a good idea, yeah I'll do it." He smiled at his brother. Sam knew this wouldn't make up for Dean not being able to see him walk, but it would be something until Dean got better and they tried again.

Sam scooted himself to the foot of the bed and positioned himself so his legs were hanging over. Holding himself up in a sitting position with his arms he waited as John grabbed Dean's crutches and then returned to his side. Sam watched as John adjusted the length of the crutches so they would be level for Sam's height.

"Uhm...how are we going to do this Dad?" Sam looked up at his father questioningly.

"We'll make it easy enough." John grinned. "I'll pull you up and place the crutches under your armpits when you're standing. I'll deal with your legs."

John leaned down and Sam wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Together they got him standing. John quickly slipped the crutches under Sam's armpits and Sam held on to them, finding it hard to keep balance when his knees weren't locked by the braces. He could already feel himself starting to sway to the side. Luckily John was fast as he knelt down to hold Sam's legs steady. Sam looked away from the floor and over to Dean, feeling awkward and way too tall in the all familiar environment of the motel. It was one thing to stand at the rehab center but a whole other feeling standing in the real world. It felt good and geeze, he really _was_ a giant.

Seeing Dean's blinding grin was enough to make Sam's whole week. Dean sure was smiling a lot these past few days, Sam expected a guy who had been starved in a sewer for three days would have been a bit grouchier. But Dean had already put the event behind him, like he always did. This time however Dean wasn't shoving the memories away to haunt him in the future, Sam really believed that after their talk Dean was truly at peace about everything that happened.

A few more moments passed of Dean simply smiling at him before the older brother looked down, staring at his lap. Sam was worried that maybe this wasn't the best idea until Dean looked back up, tears of happiness and pride in his eyes.

"Well, look at that. My little gimp is standing."

"I wouldn't exactly call him little." John said from the floor and both brothers let out a chuckle.

Dean quickly wiped at his eyes before any tears could fall and grinned again, green eyes sparkling. "I can't wait to see you walk. Let's buy a calendar, I want to count down the days."

Sam wasn't sure if it was possible to love his brother anymore than he did right now.

* * *

After his standing experience Sam had complained that he still felt grimy and disgusting and had gone to take a shower. Only about a minute later John sat down on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Hey Deano, you mind if I have a little talk with you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at his father. "Uh-oh what did I do?"

John gently pushed Dean's shoulder. "Shut it you smart-ass." He laughed and looked down at his son's healing face. "I just...we didn't have much time to talk and I never had the chance to tell you how relieved I am that you're okay."

Dean was a bit confused but just gave a slight nod, allowing his father to continue.

"When Sam told me about the shifter, I almost didn't want to believe him. Even though it was obvious and all the signs he pointed out told me it wasn't you...I almost wanted it to be you because I figured if that thing was a shifter...then...then you..." John looked away for a moment, his voice cracking. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father like this...so afraid and open. It sure didn't happen often and he was at loss of what to do or say.

Luckily he didn't have to say anything as John turned back to face Dean. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "I thought that if the thing sitting in the motel room was a shifter then there was a good chance you were going to be dead." He whispered, regaining his composure. "I had to convince Sam that you were okay even though my mind was screaming that you might not be. It was so hard to hold it together in front of your brother when I knew just how slim the chances were. When I saw you in the sewer I almost didn't believe my eyes. I'm so so glad you're okay son."

Dean smiled lightly. "Where's this all coming from?"

John returned the smile. "When you almost lose your boy, it makes you realize what's really important. And that you should say what you feel before it's too late. I know I don't say this enough but I love you two, you boys are everything to me." John paused for another moment.

"And you underestimate yourself Dean. I want you to know how proud I am of you, of everything that you do. Not just for watching out for your Sam, but for the main thing that matters...for being an amazing brother and friend to him. For how hard you work on everything that you do...you're so dedicated Dean, more than anyone I've ever known. And I'm proud of you for never giving up...on anything. I can see how hard reading and writing is for you, but you keep at it. I know you're frustrated because you haven't gotten better for years now but Dean, your learning has just plateaued and there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone has their limits and it's not your fault, your disability is no exception. You've gotten so much better from where you were eight years ago and I'm so proud of you for that.

"And I don't want you to ever think I judged you because you used to smoke. I was just worried about you Dean, but it didn't make me feel any different about you. Instead of voicing my conerns about it I pushed you away instead and I'm so sorry for that. And do you know how great it was when you quit? I was so proud of you Dean because I knew it took a lot and it just showed how strong you are. Your strength is something I've always admired about you, son."

John smiled as he watched his son blushing and suddenly finding his fingers fascinating. "I wouldn't change a thing about you Dean and I don't want you to. You and Sam are the best sons I could ask for."

And then without warning, John reached over and grabbed his son in a tight hug. Dean let out a surprised gasp, his body going tense for a moment before he relaxed and hugged John back just as furiously. For once Dean let down his wall and allowed himself to rest his head against John's shoulder, feeling safe and loved.

After a minute John pulled back, grinning. "Don't want Sammy to catch us in a chick-flick moment."

Dean laughed; he couldn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yeah, kid might get jealous; you know how he loves his chick-flick moments."

"And just so you know Dean, you don't need to worry about anything that happened when the shifter was here. It's done and over."

* * *

The three Winchesters finished off the night by playing a game of cards and watching a movie. About halfway through John realized that Sam and Dean had quit their bickering and criticisms of the movie so he looked over at the other bed.

Sam and Dean were both still sitting up propped against the headboard but they were no longer awake. Sam was slouched down further and his head was resting against his brother's shoulder, looking completely at ease. John's heart swelled at the sight in front of him and grabbed his camera, taking a few pictures to tease his sons with tomorrow. Then he went over and gently moved both of his boys so they were laying down, neither one letting out more than a groan.

Slipping the remote out of Dean's limp hand John turned off the TV, not bothering to finish the movie and got into bed. He had some long overdo business to take care of tomorrow and then they were getting the hell out of Holton and never coming back.


	15. Chapter 15

_Last chapter! Thanks to everyone who continued to read and review this series! I hope you enjoyed this adaption to the verse. I have to send all my thanks to my friend and beta Gabi for helping me out so much with the verse ever since the end of 'Missing Piece'. She had such awesome ideas for plots and helped write many scenes and some awesome chapters (including the second half of this chapter!). We have many ideas for future stories but will probably wait until the next story is finished before posting it. That way the updates will be much quicker. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this last chapter. Thank you for your support in this series!_

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* * *

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Sam was overjoyed to finally be getting out of Holton. Now they could all relax and Dean would get better. Sam looked over at Dean from the passenger seat and smiled when suddenly his brother's smile turned into a snarl. Sam wasn't sure if he should comment on it when Dean suddenly pulled off onto a dirt road. They were no longer following John in his pickup who seemed oblivious since he just kept driving.

Sam turned to Dean as the Impala picked up speed. "What are you doing Dean?" He questioned, trying not to panic.

Dean turned to Sam, his smile wicked and his eyes flickered white for a fraction of a second. "I'll tell you what I'm doing cripple. I'm going to kill you, once and for all. You thought your dear father got rid of me? Well think again."

Sam tried to scream, to reach out at the shifter-Dean but it was like his mind and body were disconnected. Not only his legs, but his whole body was paralyzed as the shifter took a sharp turn at 80 miles an hour, a tall evergreen coming in sight...any second now they were going to crash...

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, he shielded his face as he waited for the expected crash...waited for his body to go flying into the windshield...

"Woah, Sammy! Geeze, what's wrong? I'm right here." It was Dean's voice, so close and clear and Sam slowly opened his eyes. He blinked back the cloudiness out of his vision and as he focused he noticed he was still lying in bed in their motel room, they hadn't left yet. Sam quickly turned his head to the side where he heard Dean's voice and was met at eye level with his brother. Just one look into those eyes and Sam knew he was safe. This was his big brother kneeling at his side and not the shifter wanting to kill him.

Dean looked overly concerned as Sam continued to find his breath. "You okay, buddy? Please don't tell me you had another vision."

Sam cleared his throat and tried to smile. "Let's hope the shifter still posing as you and killing me in a car wreck doesn't count as a vision."

Dean turned pale and Sam had to laugh at that. "Don't worry, it was just a nightmare, I'd wake with a migraine if it was a vision."

Dean continued to look concerned for a few moments before he grinned. "That bastard didn't wreck my baby, did it?"

"Oh yeah, totally demolished, she went out in a blaze of fiery glory. You should be proud," Sam added in false details just to rile up his brother. Him and that stupid car...

"You're such an ass," Dean rolled his eyes. "Hopefully that freak doesn't haunt any more of your dreams. Do you want some coffee? I just made some."

"Sure," Sam replied, pushing himself up with his arms, about to grab for his wheelchair only to be shocked by it not being in it's usual spot. Sam looked around the room and finally at Dean who was over by the coffee machine. That little jerk! Dean hadn't been kneeling by his bedside after all, not that he could with a broken leg anyway, but Dean had been sitting in his wheelchair!

Sam tried to hide the smile on his face as he watched Dean use it with ease. Dean placed the coffee in-between his legs just like Sam did; only he started cursing because of how hot it felt. Dean then wheeled over to Sam's bed and handed it to him. He expected Dean to hobble out of the wheelchair then so Sam could get up but instead his brother wheeled himself over to the kitchen table and started cleaning off the food wrappers from his breakfast.

Sam couldn't decide if Dean was purposely being a jerk to joke around with Sam, or if he was honestly clueless because he was so comfortable with how often he sat in Sam's chair. The younger brother decided to humor himself and wait it out, see if Dean eventually realized that Sam wasn't getting out of bed because he literally couldn't with Dean using his chair.

"Just try and forget the dream, don't let it bother you," Dean was saying as he wheeled over to the garbage can and threw out the wrappers.

"I could have freaked you out and made up that it was a vision, just like I did with that nightmare I had of you dying from smoking."

Dean stopped moving and turned to face Sam. "The vision right after we found out we were brothers? It was really just a dream?"

"Well yeah. I think at first I was so freaked out by it that I was making myself believe it was a vision. But as the years went by I realized that I have headaches after each vision and it physically hurts. So that one definitely wasn't." Sam smiled, "I think deep down I knew all along that it was just a nightmare, I guess it was my way of trying to scare you out of smoking."

"You sneaky little gimp!" Dean tried to sound angry but Sam could see him fighting the smile. "All that time I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I might die that way."

Sam shrugged as Dean went to clean the weapons at the table, still in Sam's wheelchair. "It could have very well happened, that's the thought I had when I decided not to tell you the truth. But the one I had about the demon killing me...that one was a vision."

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Don't bother worrying about that either. We've stopped some of your visions from coming true and you know I'm going to stop that one. There's no way in Hell I'm going to let that bastard get near you."

The strong tone of protectiveness in his older brother's voice made Sam smile. "I know you will Dean. Anyway, why are you up so early? Dad said we could sleep in today."

Dean grimaced and Sam watched as he finally stopped acting like he was feeling alright. "My leg was killing me, woke up at seven and couldn't get back to sleep so I took my pain meds and by that time I was wide awake. I've been up and about ever since."

Sam glanced at the clock, it was ten. "You sure you're feeling okay? We could stay here another day until you feel like getting back on the road."

"Oh hell no! I want to put this town behind us for the last time. It's just because my leg is infected that it hurts more than the normal broken leg, but it will be okay in a few days. And hey, I'd expect you to want to get out of here as soon as possible. What are you still doing in bed?"

"Well I would like to get up."

"Then go ahead, why are you telling me?"

Sam rolled his eyes before glaring at his brother. "Dean!"

Finally something clicked in the older brother's brain. He looked down at the wheelchair he was sitting in and his cheeks turned red. "Oops."

"How in the world did you not realize that you were in it?" Sam laughed, enjoying Dean's embarrassment.

"I did realize! I just didn't put two and two together. You know I always sit in your chair when you're not in it. And besides, I've been in it for hours now." His blush finally receded as he smirked. "It makes getting into the bathroom a helluva lot easier. So you better get used to sharing it with the new gimp in the family."

Sam laughed at Dean's joke, he could just imagine Dean taking the easy way out and wanting to use his chair all the time. "Great! Now you're a jerk and a gimp rolled all into one. At least the later isn't permanent."

"You keep talking like that and you're going to turn into a permanent jerk." Dean rolled his eyes and wheeled over to Sam's bedside before gingerly easing himself up and hopping on his good leg for a second to sit on the edge of Sam's bed.

Sam stretched and finally was able to get out of bed and slipped into his wheelchair. He figured he'd grab Dean's crutches so his brother wouldn't have to try and hobble to get to them but was saved from the task when John walked in the door.

John looked over at Sam who was bent down putting his feet into the footrests. "You're just getting up now?" He chuckled.

Sam put on a pout. "Oh I've been awake, and I would have been out of bed a lot earlier if someone hadn't decided to steal my wheelchair."

Turning to an equally pouting Dean, John rolled his eyes. "How long did it take him to realize you couldn't get out of bed because he was still using it?"

"It's not my fault! My mind was fogged by the pain!" Dean called out but he was laughing too, no longer feeling embarrassed about it. If Sam dared say so, it was actually really nice knowing that Dean was just that comfortable with his chair.

John grabbed Dean's crutches and handed them over to him. "I bought some giant pillows to keep you comfortable on the ride to Bobby's," John paused for a moment when he looked over at Dean's pills laid out on the table. "Did you take that Chantix yet?" He asked, referring to the anti-smoking drug.

"Ugh," Dean rubbed at his eyes. "No, I forgot with all the other pills I have to take."

Sam went to grab the pills for Dean as he listened into John's conversation with his brother. "You look beat kiddo, I don't even know if I like the idea of you hobbling around with that infected leg. Maybe you should use Sam's old wheelchair that we keep at Bobby's."

Oh boy, Sam could just imagine all the fun and jokes he'd have with that!

* * *

After getting their last things ready, John looked at his sons. "You ready to leave, boys?"

Sam hesitated. "Actually, I have to tend to some business before we go. But it shouldn't be longer than half an hour."

John nodded. "No problem. We can do it on our way out. I guess we have the same business."

"Really?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "I just want to say good-bye to the Mendels. And I want to talk to Cara. I think I owe her that much."

"Absolutely. And I want to talk to your foster parents."

"Um-" Sam glanced at Dean, looking for help, but Dean just shrugged. "I don't think that's a good idea, Dad."

"Why not? I want to thank them for taking care for my baby during his childhood."

Sam frowned. Somehow, he doubted his father's good intentions.

Their stay at the Mendel's place was rather short. Anne made quite a fuss about Dean's leg and Coconut came flying straight onto his shoulder. Dean petted the bird and Anne smiled broadly. "I think I have to apologize for my behaviour a few days ago," Dean began.

Anne dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "No need. We all have bad days."

"Yeah, but what I said…"

"We didn't take it seriously. It's okay. We're glad you're feeling better now."

"Yeah, I do. I'm feeling more like myself."

Sam was still chuckling as they were on their way to the Duncan's place. "You're feeling more like yourself? That's a way to put it."

"I was kinda nervous," Dean admitted. "I had no clue what I was apologizing for."

"For being a jerk. So nothing unusual."

Dean scowled at his brother. "Maybe you should have kept the shifter as your brother."

"Oh yeah, the way he treated me felt so familiar. It reminded me of my foster parents." Sam smiled when he glanced at Dean. "I'd hug it out with you but I'm driving. Rest assured, you're the best brother in the world." Sam waited for Dean's smile back, then he added: "Which is exactly what you wanted to hear from me."

Dean huffed and looked out the window in mocked offense.

Sam changed the subject. "Cara wants to meet you. I honestly don't know why, but she thinks you're cute."

"That's because I am." Dean turned to face his brother, but then he frowned. "Hey, how would she know?"

"I showed her the picture Dad took at Niagara Falls."

"You did?" Dean huffed.

"Anything wrong with that?" Sam glanced at his brother.

"No, it's okay." Dean sighed. "But actually, I think I'll pass. I'll wait for you in the car."

Sam stopped at a red light and looked in the mirror to assure himself that their dad's pickup was still behind them. Then he turned to Dean. "You'll pass? Just a few days ago you wanted to go and kill my foster parents. What happened?"

Dean just shrugged, staring out of the window to avoid Sam's inquiring gaze.

Sam's astonished look turned into a smirk. "I can't believe it. You don't feel embarrassed because of your broken leg, do you? Hey dude, I'm going there in a wheelchair, what's wrong with a pair of crutches?"

"Yeah, right," Dean muttered. "Sam and Dean Winchester, the cripple team."

Sam laughed out loud, but when the lights changed he had to concentrate on driving again. "We're the damn best team in the world, Dean, you know that? Cripple or no."

Dean only smiled and looked out of the window. Sam frowned when he glanced briefly over to his brother. "Okay, so it's not that. You don't feel embarrassed to get out there on crutches. So what is it?"

Dean sighed deeply. He seemed reluctant to share his thoughts, but eventually he started to speak. "You know I really would like to tell your foster parents how I feel about the way they treated you. But then again I'm pretty sure Dad will take care of this. You don't need a father and a brother getting at their throats with you standing beside us. They would think you can't stand up for yourself and told us to read them the riot act. You would feel humiliated and it's not worth that. Besides, you're going to have your hands full with keeping dad from killing them."

Sam looked at his brother as long as it was possible without crashing the Impala into one of the neat garden fences that lined the road. He was touched by Dean's consideration.

"Dad said that he only wants to talk to them," he answered.

Dean snorted loudly. "Yeah, right."

* * *

Sam was still chuckling when he approached the doorstep of his former home. He didn't feel much better than Dean. He would have loved to meet his foster parents standing on his feet, towering over them. But maybe they weren't at home.

No such luck. Susan Duncan answered the door. She frowned when she saw Sam, but didn't seem to recognize him. "Can I help you, Sir?" she asked politely.

If he hadn't been so nervous, Sam would have laughed out loud. She really didn't have a clue whom she called Sir here. "I'd like to speak to Cara," he said instead. "Is she at home?"

The frown deepened. "What do you want with Cara? What's your business with her?"

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

"Should I?"

Sam sighed. "I'm Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yes. Sam Winchester, actually, but I used to go by the name of Duncan when I lived here. It seems like it didn't take you long to forget me."

Susan Duncan's eyes grew wide and her chin hit the floor. "You're Sam? We thought you were dead."

"Really?"

"What's going on here? Who's that?" Looking around his foster mother's form, Sam could see Charles Duncan approach the door. His wife turned to him.

"Charles, do you remember Sam? The crippled boy we took in more than twenty years ago?"

Charles looked down at Sam. "Yes, I remember. So, you're back? What have you been up to during the last few years? You look well."

"No thanks to you," an angry voice came from behind.

Sam looked over his shoulder. He had asked his father to stay behind, but apparently John hadn't been able to restrain himself any longer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charles inquired, angrily furrowing his brow. "Who are you?"

John approached until he stood beside Sam, casually laying his hand on his son's shoulder. "My name is John Winchester. I'm Sam's father. His real father."

"He's an orphan," Charles objected. "He doesn't have any family. We took him in because no other family wanted to have him."

John felt his son tense under his hand and squeezed his shoulder to comfort him.

"My dad and brother wanted me," Sam told his foster parents.

Charles looked at John, inquiringly. "So you kidnapped a crippled boy and made him believe he'd found his real family? Why would you do something like that? I don't understand what there is to gain with him."

Suddenly Charles Duncan felt himself pressed against the doorframe, with the face of a furious John Winchester just about two inches from his nose. He heard his wife give a loud cry beside him and heard the crippled young man that had been his foster son try to calm this angry man.

"Let him go, Dad," Sam said. He wanted to add that Charles wasn't worth the effort, but he didn't. Seeing the frightened expression on his foster father's face felt good.

John removed his hands from Charles's throat, but he didn't step back. "He really is my son and I can prove it," he grumbled, and straightened out Charles's collar in a patronizing gesture. "It's nothing short of a miracle that I got my boy back. My baby boy who I thought was dead for fourteen years. I guess you don't know how it feels to lose a child and you have no clue how it feels when you find them again. To realize your kid isn't dead at all. But I take the way he was treated in this house very personally."

"We gave him a home," Susan piped in with a hushed voice.

"Yeah, you did." John nodded gravely. "You cared for him when he was a baby and I'm grateful for that, I really am. What is it with you people? You want to have babies but when they grow up you don't care for them any longer? Why did you take a disabled boy in when you weren't willing to meet his needs? You didn't even bother to adjust the bathroom door so he could get in with his wheelchair."

"That's not true," Susan whispered.

"Is it not true that he had to crawl into the bathroom most of the time? And what about those two jocks that bullied Sam all through the years? Is that a lie too? You just didn't care. You told him he had to fight his own battles. A disabled boy had to put up with two jerks taller and stronger than him, and you just told him to get out of your hair? What great foster parents you are." John shifted his eyes between the man and the woman, who seemed rather intimidated by now.

Out of the corner of her eye Susan noticed Cara standing there, looking onto the scene with great interest. "Cara, honey, this man is threatening us. Call the police," she said in an urgent tone of voice.

"Honey?" Cara huffed. "You haven't called me that for more than nine years. And why should I call the cops? This is Sam's father and in my opinion he has every right to be angry."

Susan stared at Cara agape, disbelief showing clearly in her eyes.

John turned to the girl and managed a smile. "Sam wants to say good-bye to you."

"You're leaving?" Disappointment washed over Cara's face as she pushed past her foster parents. She hugged Sam fiercely. "I was hoping you would stay for a while."

"You knew he was here?" Charles asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why should I?" Cara didn't even make the effort to turn around.

Before Charles could answer, John took over. "It looks like your foster children don't trust you very much." He watched Sam and Cara strolling along the driveway, already lost in conversation. A smile formed on his lips and his anger vanished. At least a little bit. "You know, I'm not the best of fathers myself," he admitted to Susan and Charles. "But I'm trying my best. And I don't understand why you take kids in and then don't bother to care for them."

"We do care," Charles argued. "But these kids can't live here forever. They need to grow up fast to stand their ground in this world."

"There's a big difference between encouraging them to grow up and neglecting them. You can't tell me that letting those dickheads steal Sam's food all the time helped him grow up."

Susan bit her lip. "Sir, maybe you should take into consideration that not everything Sam has told you might actually be true."

"You're saying my son is a liar?" John's eyebrows drew together threateningly.

Susan backed off. "I'm not saying that. But he was a child, and children often exaggerate."

"How would you know? Do you ever talk to your kids? Did you make the effort to look at Sam just once, back then? Didn't you realize how skinny he was? Did you ever notice the bruises he got from his foster brothers' friendly treatment?" John bitterly huffed.

Charles opened his mouth to defend himself, but John cut him off. "Look, I don't care about your excuses. But I'm pretty sure CPS would be interested in knowing how things are handled here. If you don't want me to tip them off, you better start treating these children with respect. And take care of their needs. Am I clear?"

The Duncans nodded reluctantly. John smiled grimly. "Don't make me come back."

"Did he scare you?" Sam asked Cara when they walked out of earshot of his father's angry voice. "He can be pretty intimidating."

"Your dad?" Cara shook her head. "No, he didn't. I would love to have someone stand up for me as he did for you."

"You do have someone."

"Yeah, but you're leaving." Cara wiped the tears from her eyes.

Sam was deeply touched by her affection. "We'll stay in touch, Cara. I'll give you my email address and my cell phone number, and you can contact me any time you want."

"That would be great." Cara smiled sadly. "I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't," Sam reassured her. "Hey, you up to meeting my brother?"

"The cutie? Of course I am." Her smile grew bigger. "Where is he?"

"He's waiting at the car. He broke his leg a few days ago and is still trying to handle the crutches properly." Sam chuckled. "He's used to looking after a gimp, not being one himself."

When they approached the Impala, Dean had got out and was leaning on his crutches. "I heard that," he grumbled; but then he smiled at Cara. "So, you are my brother's little sister. I'm Dean. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." Cara blushed and looked shyly over to Sam, who gave her an encouraging smile. "How's your leg?"

"Not too bad," Dean told her. "The worst thing is that I can either walk or use my hands, not both at the same time." Dean ignored Sam's loud snort and sat back down on the passenger seat. "It's not easy to be a gimp, you know?" He smiled broadly at Cara.

"It's not easy to be a jerk either, and you manage quite well all the time," Sam chimed in.

"Shut up, gimp," Dean growled. "I'm talking to your sister."

Cara chuckled. "Will you come back?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe." He looked up as John approached. Their father nodded at his boys and then turned to Cara. Giving her a piece of paper he said: "Here are all of our cell phone numbers and Sam's email address. If you need anything, or if those ridiculous wannabe foster parents treat you badly again, you call us, you hear me? You do it, and I'll be back and become their worst nightmare."

"Thank you, Sir," Cara whispered; and took the paper from John's hand. "That's very kind of you."

"We care for our family," John said. "And you're Sam's family." He took his wallet and gave her two 100 Dollar bills. "Go buy yourself and your siblings some new clothes and a few things you need."

Cara's eyes went as big as saucers. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. Maybe she never even knew what a 100 Dollar bill looked like. "It's okay," John smiled. "Just don't tell your parents. I have their promise that they will treat you right in the future, but I'm afraid they're not gonna change much. So you have to look after your siblings."

"I'll do," Cara whispered. "Thank you so much, Sir."

"Drop the sirs, please." John nodded at her. "I'm afraid we have to go now."

"Yeah, I have to go too." Cara smiled. "I promised William I would pick him up from a friend's house." She bent down to hug Sam. "Take care, big brother."

Sam stroked her cheek affectionately. "Take care of yourself. And if anything happens…"

"I'm gonna call you." Cara nodded and watched how Sam heaved himself into the car. While John put the wheelchair on the back seat, Dean said good bye to Cara and stowed away his crutches. Stretching his broken leg very carefully, he looked over at Sam. "Let's get out of here."

Sam nodded and revved the engine. As he drove away, in the mirror he could still see Cara standing there and waving them good-bye. He smiled. This town hadn't been that bad, after all.

**End!**


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